


A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

by kazosa



Series: A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Do NOT copy to another website, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2019-09-20 19:22:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 70,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17028531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazosa/pseuds/kazosa
Summary: All you wanted was to use your skills in automotive engineering and design to open your own custom car shop. When the rug gets yanked out from under you, one of your regular customers offers you a job that you just can’t resist. Will it stay a mutually beneficial arrangement, or will something unexpected bloom?





	1. Chapter 1

    Dean flipped the green invitation over in his hands, the gold lettering reflecting the light. It was same card stock the cheap, old bastard always used. This one, however, had a snowflake at the top and requested his presence for the annual Christmas party. The dread was already seeping in. The inevitable questions would come up.

    “Do you have a special someone?” then watching their faces drop when he said ‘no’. The disappointment, the sadness, the pity. If it didn’t come from his family, it would come from the shareholders.

    There had never been a real time-table on when his dad was going to retire, but John Winchester had been hinting heavily at it for the last six months. To make matters worse, Dean’s brother, Sam, had gotten engaged to his long-time girlfriend, Jess, at Thanksgiving.

    Dean never understood why being married was a requirement to run the family business. He didn’t need someone distracting him, there was no time for anything more than a one-night stand. His focus had been on creating new blends and staying relevant in the brewing community. If he was going to have any shot at running the business, he needed to, at least, make it look like he was going to have or already did have a long-term relationship.

    He tossed the invitation on the coffee table and got up from his couch. He had less than a week to get it figured out, but other things needed his attention. Grabbing his brown leather jacket and keys, he headed down to the garages. Baby needed a tune up and he didn’t have time to do it himself.

    Business was good. It was always good, and you were confident it was because of you. You did most of the work in the garage and stayed late to help with the books and maintaining inventory. Chuck was deep in the black and you weren’t being cut in on the profits. Getting your own custom design garage going had been a dream and you were saving up for it. You were still a year, maybe two away from having your start up capital at the rate you were going. With Chuck not sharing the profits you were responsible for generating, you asked him for a meeting to talk about it.

    “Damnit, Chuck, you can’t do this to me,” you pleaded. “I’m the reason you’re going on vacation every quarter. No one is going to give me the loans I need until I get my down payment secured. I was counting on you.”

    “(Y|N), if I hand you everything, you won’t appreciate what you have. You’ll never get the work ethic to see something through to completion without help,” he looked so smug sitting in his desk chair. “There’s nothing wrong with this garage and working here. I don’t understand why you’d want to leave.”

    The deep, throaty sounds of the muscle cars that were the bread and butter of the business were in the background noise of the rage you were feeling toward Chuck. You were vaguely aware of movement outside the door of Chuck’s office.

    “This is a load of bullshit. Do you hear yourself?! Do you actually believe the crap that comes out of your mouth? You know what an asset I am and you’re screwing me over to keep me here,” you could feel the heat of your rage begin to crawl up your neck.

    “I’d like to remind you that you’re under contract until the end of the month. You can either resign for another year, or you can walk.”

    “So, you’ve already made up your mind? This is it?” you were numb.

    “January 1st. 1 P.M. You’re not here to sign, I’ll consider your resignation immediate. No hard feelings,” Chuck’s voice was cool and controlled.

    “Anything else?” you matched his tone.

    “No. You can go,” he was almost glib.

    You were clenching your teeth, willing yourself not to break. Quickly, you turned and left Chuck’s office. The old wood and glass door rattled as it closed behind you. Too caught up in the disaster your life had suddenly become, you didn’t notice the man on the visitor couch until he cleared his throat.

    “The hell do you want?” you growled. “Oh, right, tune up.”

    You saw the car outside first before you’d put the information together.

    “Sorry, it’s not you. Winchester, right?” you asked.

    Dean stood up, but he didn’t move from that spot. For a man as big as he is, and normally so confident, it was a little odd to see him so apprehensive.

    “Yes, but that’s not all,” he said.

    “Not interested,” you really hoped he wouldn’t be like the shocking majority of your customers and not hit on you. They all seemed to want to take you away, provide for you, or some crap about you being a woman mechanic. No one ever took time to get to know you.

    “What? No, wait. I have a proposition for you!” he tried to stop you from walking away.

    “Get the hell out of my garage,” you ordered.

    “Shit! No, it’s not like that! I mean, it is, but it’s not what you think,” he tried to get you to stop and listen.

    You looked at your crazy customer. Over the last year, you’d seen Dean Winchester for regular oil changes and a few other minor repairs you were sure he could have done himself. You’d gotten acquainted with him, but not much more than car talk.

    “Can we talk in private somewhere?” he asked earnestly.

    The ‘talk’ with Chuck was still ringing in your ears. You brushed off your hands on your coveralls and said, “Sure, what the hell.”

    The short walk to the café on the corner wasn’t long enough to cool off your flared temper. This Dean guy was working your nerves, too, but at least Donna’s brought the promise of hot drinks and donuts. Reaching for the door, you puled it open letting both you and Dean in. The smell of donuts, cookies, and coffee greeted you, as well as the owner of the store.

    “Hi kiddo!” she called from behind the counter. “Have a seat, be right with ya!”

    “She’s … cheerful,” Dean observed.

    You were feeling better already. Donna’s was the place you went to almost every day. She had the best donuts in town, a small variety of coffee, and now that the weather had turned, apple cider and hot chocolate.

    “Donna is the best. She takes care of everybody,” you felt yourself smiling. You stopped near your favorite booth and turned to face Dean.

    “Have a seat, I need to go wash my hands,” you held up your grease stained hands. “Donna keeps Lava for me. Be right back.”

    You didn’t wait for Dean to slide into the booth. You didn’t even care if he was there when you got back, but you were curious to hear what “proposition” he had for you. In the bathroom, you barely had time to turn on the faucet and grab the soap before Donna came bursting in through the door.

    “(Y|N)! Oh my gosh, who is mister cutie-pie out there?! And are you two going to…”

    “Donna! Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” you warned.

    “What?! He’s CUTE! If you’re not going to, send him back my way, huh?”

    Donna was too much, sometimes.

    “He’s a customer and we’re going to talk _business,”_ you were using the scrubbing soap Donna hid under the sink, just for you.

    “I don’t care, you better get his number, then tell me all about it!”

    “Donna!”

    The woman you thought of as a sister, gave you a wink before she bustled out of the bathroom. The gritty soap worked loose the grease that stuck to your skin and rinsed off your hands. The soap worked well but left your hands dry. When you put away the soap, you put half a pump of lotion in your hand and worked if into your skin. Miraculously, when you did a mirror check, no stray strands of hair had escaped your bandana headband. Calling it a win, you went back out to the booth where Dean was still waiting for you.

    Dean sat at the booth, hands clasped in front of him, looking a little nervous. You weren’t sure you’d ever seen that look on his face. If that was how he looked for a business deal, you didn’t think you wanted to hear it.

    Putting your hand on the bench, you slid into the booth across from Dean. The menu was on the table and you put your hand on it, walking your fingers on it to bring it closer to you.

    “So, ahh,” Dean’s hands rapped out a rhythm on the table top, “you come here often?”

    He couldn’t see your face behind the menu to gauge your reaction to his poor choice in words. You didn’t roll your eyes, but you did raise an eyebrow at him.

    “Almost every day,” you admitted dryly.

    “Donna seems nice,” he said.

    You didn’t look up from your menu. You already knew what you wanted, you got the same thing every time. You were just in a bad mood and wanted to make Dean squirm a little.

    “Look… Dean,” you relented and put down the menu. “I only have so much time for my break.”

    “Seems like you might have a lot of free time soon,” he ventured.

    “And just how long were you eavesdropping? Man, you’re really batting .1000,” your voice rose in volume and attitude.

    “Your boss wasn’t being quiet when he gave you the ultimatum. Tow the line or get out, right?” he paused a moment. “You don’t seem like the conforming type.”

    “Oh really, and what type _do_ I seem like?” your volume increasing again.

    “Hi kids! What can I getcha?!” Donna zoomed over to your booth and kicked your boot under the table.

    You started, “I’ll have…”

    Donna cut you off again, and without even looking at you, she said, looking at Dean, “I know what you want, I was talking to handsome, here.”

    For the first time ever, Donna’s bubbly personality bugged the shit out of you. How dare she be nice to the smug jerk across from you.

    “Any recommendations?” Dean asked, sweet as can be.

    “Powdered sugar donuts are on special,” Donna answered.

    “They’re on special every day, Donna,” you grumbled.

    “Doesn’t make ‘em any less special, sweetie,” she said, the usual cheer in her tone, ignoring your sour one.

    Dean glanced at you, his expression said he was wondering what he was missing.

    “Um,” he stalled.

    Donna glared at you.

    “In all fairness,” your attention went to Dean, “they are pretty amazing.”

    “You sold me,” he said and handed his menu to Donna, “Two and a black coffee.”

    “I’ll be right back,” she said, then mouthed the words “BE NICE” to you before going back behind the counter to fill your orders. You gave Donna a noncommittal shrug. She was back in just a few short minutes.

    Dean suspected that (Y|N) would be a tough sell on his plan. The whole drive to the garage he thought about what he was going to say. None of it sounded good. It all came out like garbage. After he parked his baby in the to-service area, he stepped inside the garage through the pass-through doors and to the right.

    (Y|N) was hard to miss. Not only was she the only woman in the shop, she had a style all her won, even in work clothes. She was in the office talking to the owner, Chuck. She had her pulled up, a bandana wrapped around her head. Her coveralls had the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and he couldn’t see, but he knew she was wearing beat up black combat boots.

    He took a seat in the waiting area. It didn’t take long before the conversation in the office became heated. He heard everything, and he finally knew how he could get her to help him. He stuck his foot in his mouth a few times, but she needed to get out of the shop and that worked to his advantage.

    They’d gone to a café on the corner and he found himself in a booth staring at an untrusting, angry (Y|N), and at a loss for words. (Y|N) gave off a vibe that she had zero fucks left to give, so he pulled no punches, even though he found her attitude slightly intimidating.

   “Look, I’m gonna get right to it, I need your help,” he began.

    “Oh yeah?” you were wary of what he might say next, “this is gonna be good.”

    “I’d like to pay you to do some…let’s call it ‘work.’ It’s out of the ordinary, but I’ll make it worth your while.”

    “How out of the ordinary are we talkin’ here?” you were curious.

    “I need a girlfriend for a week,” his voice was hushed

    You started sliding out of the booth, “You’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

   He half-stood on his side of the booth to stop you from leaving.

    “Hear me out, please. I swear it’s not what you think.”

    His hand was cool and firm on top of yours. When you looked at him, he was still hovering over his seat, his eyes pleading with you to stay. You couldn’t put your finger on what it was that made you change your mind, but you found yourself sitting back down in the booth to hear what he had to say.

    After you checked the time, you said, “You have fifteen minutes.”

    “My family owns a brewery and car dealerships where I’m from. My dad has been very controlling of it and didn’t want to try anything new or change anything about how business was done and… it was part of the reason I left.”

    “And the other part?” your curiosity about this job, and man, were growing.

    Dean squirmed in his seat. This was the tough part.

    “My dad thought it was important for the person he hands off the business to be in a solid relationship when he retires. They even tried to set me up with a “good girl” they thought would be good for me. Almost married her…There’s me and my brother left to take it over,” he said.

    “And you want it?” you guessed. You had other questions, but this was not the time.

    Dean nodded.

    “What’s the catch? There’s always a catch,” you asked.

    “The old man can spot a lie from a mile out. We’re really going to have to sell it. You might have to become my fiancé. I even have my grandmother’s ring if it comes down to it. The old man won’t give the business over unless he believes we’re real.”

    “What else are you leaving out?” you wanted to know.

    “My little brother got engaged at Thanksgiving. There’s a strong chance this won’t work,” he said.

    “And you’re afraid you’re not pop’s favorite?”

    “There’s that and I haven’t exactly been friendly with everyone... and my track record with women has not been stellar,” he admitted.

    “You see he irony here, right?” you asked, and Dean gave you a “what are you gonna do” shrug.

    “Is your brother that much of a dick that he would try to snake the business from you by getting engaged?”

    “All he sees is the profit margins. He doesn’t love the business like I do. Never has.”

    You leaned back in the booth and polished off your donut and washed it down with the apple cider.

    “So, you want me to convince your family that we’re a sickeningly in love couple, so _you_ can snake the business from _him?”_ you deduced.

    Dean nodded again.

    “If I help you do this, what do I get out of it?” you wanted to know.

    “Would my unending appreciation be enough?” he asked.

    You crossed your arms and stared at him, unblinking, unamused by his joke.

    He leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones a though he were suddenly aware hey were in a public space.

    “I can provide the capital you needed that you aren’t getting from Chuck. I wouldn’t even need to be an investor. Just call it a gift, or a payment, or whatever, for services rendered,” he said.

    You definitely had not expected him to make you that kind of proposal. A lot of questions rolled through your head. How did he have that kind of money? He didn’t even know how much you needed. What was his dating history that he came to you?

    Dean was relieved that you were still in the booth with him. He could see you were thinking hard on what he’d offered.

    “And if you don’t get the business?”

    “Then I’m still screwed, and you can kick my ass,” he snorted.

    “I have the boots for that,” you said without missing a beat.

    “C’mon, sweetheart. Mutually beneficial deal here. Would it be so bad to pretend to like me for a week?”

    “No, not for the right price, I guess,” you said. “I’m not doing this for nothing, Winchester. And so long as we’re clear, it’s all for show. I’m not a whore to be bought, I just want my own garage. Why a week though?”

    “Not a problem. I don’t have time for a girlfriend, real or fake. The week is my dad’s doing. It’s the only time each year when we are required to show up. He makes a big deal out of it. Party for the whole company. Speaking of, do you have a dress?”

    You laughed, you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t believe the turn your day had taken. It was all so ridiculous. You had plenty of money saved, but you were unwilling to pony up the cash it would take to dress properly.

    “I have a dress, but I have no jewelry to go with it,” you said. “When do you need an answer about this?”

    You knew very little about Dean Winchester, but you’d found him to be mostly pleasant when you’d spoken to him in the past. You supposed there were worse ways to spend a week, especially with the possibility of losing your real job when you got back. But if it went well, you’d have the money to get your shop going. If it went poorly, you wouldn’t have your garage as quickly, but you might get a new friend out of it.

    “Soon as possible,” he responded.

    “I’ll let you know when you get your car tomorrow,” you started to slide out of the booth. “I gotta get back to work.”

    Dean followed her out of the booth and was going to walk her out when Donna stopped him.

    “Hey, buddy. No dine ‘n dash here,” she called out.

    He jerked his head around to see the back of (Y|N)’s coveralls walking away from him.

    “Nice,” he grumbled at her retreating figure. Turning back to the counter, he walked back to where Donna stood and pulled out his wallet. “My mistake.”

    Donna smiled brightly at him. It was like she had no “off” switch.

    “I used ta be a sheriff, didja know?” she asked.

    Dean shook his head and handed her a $20. Donna’s former career hadn’t come up in conversation.

    “Oh yeah. It gave me a particular set of skills acquired over a long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for guys like you. If you promise you’ll be a gentleman and not break my dear friend’s heart, I won’t look for you. I will not pursue you. But if you do, I will find you, and I will kill you.”

    Dean looked at the blonde woman. He felt like she was serious, but also like she might be jerking him around.

    “Did you just… _Taken_ me?” he asked, waiting on his change.

    “Yeah! It’s good right?!”

    They both nodded and appreciated the reference. Donna turned serious again, her brown eyes burning through him.

    She extended her index finger at him to make her point, “I mean it, buck-o. You hurt her the D-Train is comin’ for ya.”

    She came around the corner, his change still in her hand.

    “It’s business, not happily ever after,” he said, letting her guide him to the door.

    “Well! That’s good, huh?!” she chirped. “Cuz cops know things. Thanks for the tip!” she put his change in her apron pocket.

    “Okay then,” she opened the door. “Thanks for coming in… Dean Winchester.” She patted his shoulder as she pushed him out the door. “Come back real soon, okay? Bye!”

    Dean walked out the door and was waiting for his ride to arrive before he realized he’d been hustled, twice.

    “Sonofabitch.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Synopsis: The reader makes her decision about helping Dean. They have dinner to discuss terms and begin the journey to Kansas.

    “You were supposed to call me after your meeting with Chuck,” your best friend, Ryan, didn’t even bother with saying ‘hello’ when she answered her phone.

    “I know, I was a little stunned by the whole thing. Chuck was a dick and then something else happened and I ended up having a weird meeting with a customer. I…” you trailed off.

    “Start with Chuck. What did the shyster say?” she asked.

    “No.” The word was bitter on your tongue. “He said I could work for him for another year or two, but it would be under contract, or I can leave. He gave me to New Year’s Day to figure it out. Sign or I’m gone.”

    “That prick! What did you say?!”

    “I don’t remember. I think all I did was nod. But as soon as I walked out of Chuck’s office, he was there, and my day got weird,” you said.

     “What? Who was there?! A creep customer again?”

    “Impala Guy,” you said simply and ignored the flip your stomach did.

    “Holy shit!”

    Over the last few years, you’d been hit on, in some way by almost every male customer and a few ladies. Impala Guy, as you called him to Ryan, was among the very few who hadn’t, and he stood out. You’d always assumed he either wasn’t interested or was taken.

    “He asked me for a favor…” you were unsure of how to continue, it was all so strange and unbelievable. “We went to Donna’s for what he said was a business meeting.”

    “He’s cute, right?” Ryan interrupted.

    “Yeah, I guess, focus,” you heard Ryan snort on the other end. “He asked me to be his girlfriend for a week. Show it up for the family so he can get the family businesses from his dad. If he gets it, he’ll give me what I need to get my shop going.”

    “And what do you get if he doesn’t? Your time is not free, (Y|N),” she added. “You need to get something out of it.”

    “He did mention needing a dress for a party and I told him I needed jewelry. He didn’t say no.”

    “That’s the least he can do. Make him pay for it, then sell the jewelry after you’re done playing house. Milk him for all you can, and at least you’ll have something to show for it.”

    “No, it’s crazy.”

    “You’re going.”

    “What?! No, it’s insane…who does that?” you were riled.

    “You do. It’s the fast track to getting your shop open in a much shorter time. You’re going,” she ordered.

    “Ryan…”

    “Don’t _Ryan_ me. You’ve wanted your own shop since Ford. You left Tesla for this,” she paused to choose her next tac. “Chuck is a **_distant_** relative, at best, and he never gave two shits about you until you won that design award and realized he could do business on YOUR good name. You don’t owe him a damn thing! Take Impala Guy’s money and run.”

    “I can’t believe I’m even considering this,” you ran your hand through your hair.

    “Give me his name and call me back on Skype. I’m going to cyber-stalk the shit outta him, make sure he’s not some weirdo,” Ryan told you.

    You laughed a little, but you were also grateful. You gave her his name and called her back on Skype video. Ryan always thought of the things you would never, and she would do anything to help. After an hour of solid research, you had an astonishing amount of info on Dean Winchester and you seriously considered using an alias after. Ryan’s research let you know that his family was a big deal where he came from and that was partly why it was so easy to research him. His dad ran a successful brewery and his mother had a few small franchises of car dealerships in the area of Lawrence, Kansas, until her passing when Dean was 20 years old. The dealerships were run by his father’s friend, Bobby Singer. Dean had gone home after his mother passed and worked for his father before eventually leaving and making his own name in the brewing business. He wasn’t married, and it seemed like a long string of gold-diggers caught his eye, but none of them ever lasted. Ryan noted, it was always a different woman in the pictures with him.

    “That emerald green dress you have is the one you should bring along,” Ryan said as an afterthought.

    “Why?” you asked.

    “It’s the signature color of the family business,” she answered. “Make him get you some emeralds.”

    “Goodnight, Ryan,” you were feeling tired and a little dirty for snooping on Dean.

    “Goodnight! Tell me how it goes tomorrow.”

    Dean had fitful sleep, at best. He kept having nightmares. His dream of running the family business kept slipping through his fingers. His dad’s disappointment on his face. Sam gloating, then destroying the brewery. His mom trying to be happy before she blew away into dust. And (Y|N) at the end sobbing over a wrecked car.

    The sun was barely beginning to rise when he finally gave up the hope of getting more sleep. He got out of bed and went to the windows that stretched from floor to ceiling on his 3rd floor apartment. The sun wouldn’t be fully up for another half hour, at least. Grabbing the blanket off the back of the leather chair, he sat down in the chair and covered up, his feet outstretched on the ottoman. His thoughts went to the fiery mechanic and the offer he made her. If she didn’t accept his offer, he knew he could kiss away any hope of getting the family business. The fact that he also didn’t know anyone else who could help him only compounded his worry. On the other hand, if she did accept, he needed to put on a show convincing enough for his family, but with a nearly complete stranger.

    He slouched down in the chair and wondered how he’d managed to get himself in this situation. He thought about his options. There was one thing he knew would work, but he didn’t want to have to rely on his grandmother’s wedding ring. If he used it, it would need to be if he were desperate.

    Dean didn’t know how long he sat weighing the pros and cons of the situation, or if he just dozed off, be when he got up from the chair, the sun was almost fully up. He got up from the chair and went to the safe in the wall of his bedroom closet. He punched in the code 42167. The light turned from red to green and he heard the tumblers release. Turning the handle, he opened the safe door.

    The small box inside was one of the very few precious treasures he kept in the safe. It felt cool to the touch when he pulled it out of the hold. For his own assurance, he opened the box to look at the ring kept inside. Even in the dim light of dawn, the diamonds and sapphires glinted. Satisfied with his decision, he put the ring and box back inside the safe and relocked it.

    He glanced at the clock and figured if he took his time getting ready, he could get to work a little early and be able to leave early to get his car and his answer from (Y|N).

    The end of the day couldn’t come fast enough for Dean. Not only was he working on very little sleep, it seemed like everything that could go wrong, did go wrong and he lost all track of time. He was still working on a burst fermentation tank when he heard his boss call out to him.

    “Winchester!”

    Not putting things together, he got up off the elevated catwalk and went to the stairs. Even after he saw her, it took a moment for him to realize the woman was (Y|N). Her hair was no longer held back by a bandana. She had a midnight blue scarf on that shimmered in the light, a dark brown leather jacket on and a gray sweater peeking out at the hem of the coat. The skinny jeans showed off her legs and the outfit was completed with leather boots the same color as the coat.

    “Sir? (Y|N)?”

    “What’s the matter with you keeping this lady waiting? I didn’t even know you were seeing someone. You need to get outta here, right now,” his boss told him.

    Dean made his way down the stairs to the production floor and his boss continued the gentle beratement.

    “You don’t need to be here working on the fermenter, we have Kevin for that.”

    Dean looked at (Y|N) quickly then back to his boss the pieces finally falling into place.

    “It’s almost seven, Dean,” she threw him a lifeline. “I thought we were going to go to dinner. You could have called.”

    He looked at (Y|N) unsure if she was already acting the part or if he’d mad yet another spectacularly bad decision. She stood to the side of his boss and they were both staring at him. Then ever so casually, (Y|N) closed one eyelid and he let out a small sigh.

    “Work. You know how it is,” he shrugged.

    You couldn’t see any vat contents on him, but the smell was definitely there, and it was getting to you.

    “If we’re still going to dinner, you need to shower first,” you told him. “You literally smell like a brewery.”

    He smirked at her comment wondering if she was deliberately charming or if it just came naturally. It didn’t seem forced…

    The boss also laughed at your dad-joke.

    “Dean, get outta here. Never keep a lady waiting,” he said and turned to leave the floor.

    When he was out of earshot, Dean spoke up.

    “Did you tell him we were dating?” he asked, a little irked.

    “No, he just assumed, and I didn’t correct him. It seemed like the best way to get you out here,” you explained. “When you didn’t show up at the shop, I had to track you down. I figured, for my trouble, I could let the boss think what he needed.”

    “Ah. I see. I lost track of time. Burst pipe on the fermenter. It needed to be fixed and…”

    “I know what lost track of time means, Dean. So, are we ready to go, or what?” you asked.

    “As long as you don’t stick me with the bill again,” he said, walking with you in the same direction as his boss had gone.

    You shrugged. It hadn’t been intentional when you left Donna’s without paying, but if he wanted you to say yes to his ridiculous offer, you figured he could foot a donut tab.

    “If you’re serious, I’m ready to talk about it some more,” you admitted.

    “Look,” he said, stopping you, “I’m serious. I’m not jerking you around. The least you could do is show me the same respect. Are you in or are you out?”

    He had a point. You needed to be straight-forward with him. You could bullshit everyone else, but not him.

    “Okay, I’m in,” you answered with out a hint of doubt.

    A wave of relief washed over him, and he felt much better about the prospect of facing his family.

    When you told Dean you would go, he smiled. He hadn’t done that before in your presence, you would have remembered it. The bright shine of his eyes, the adorable crinkle around them, the whiteness of his perfect teeth. You continued walking with him to where there were a set of doors for the employee locker and breakroom.

    “How’d you get here? Did you drive my car?” he asked from the locker room.

    You reached in your coat pocket and fished out the keys, holding them up for Dean to see.

    He frowned, but didn’t say anything about you driving other than, “Did you have any problems getting here?”

    “No, she’s just a big girl. I’m used to smaller cars,” you explained. “I promise I was very careful with her.”

    Dean grabbed his coat from his locker and led you back out of the room.

    “Please tell me you don’t drive a Prius,” he stopped you.

    “No…not a Prius,” you assured him, though his disdain made you not want to tell him what you actually did drive…

    “Good. We’d have to have a discussion about the paradox of working on muscle cars and driving a Prius.”

    He said the word ‘Prius’ like it left a bad taste in his mouth. It probably did.

    “We have a lot to talk about,” you got him back on track.

    _Right to business,_ he thought. He could respect that. Maybe if they could settle the finer details, the whole situation would be smoother.

    “You want to negotiate?” he bumped your elbow with his. When you looked down, he held his hand out palm up to you. His keys made a crisp clink as you put them in his palm and his hand clasped shut around them. The two of you made it outside and to where you parked the Impala. It was quite cold, and the wind gusted, flipping your hood up onto your head.

    “I think it would be good to hash out the details of how the week is going to go and what is expected from me,” you said peeking out from under your faux fur lined hood.

    He knew there was more. He knew (Y|N) was a shrewd business-woman and would want to talk money, but the tactful lady in her wouldn’t necessarily bring it up right away.

    “That’s fair. I just want to make sure it’s understood that this is all for business. I’m not looking for a girlfriend or fiancé. I just want to get the brewery and our arrangement is done.”

    It was your turn to smirk. Dean might actually think you wanted something more from him than just financial benefit.

    “Oh good, we’re in it for the same reasons.”

    “You want the brewery?” he asked.

    You laughed a little, he did look tired. “No, we’re both using each other to get what we want.”

    He opened the passenger door for you, so you could slip inside. He realized he barely knew you. Going to his side of the car, he got in, turned the ignition and cranked the heat before putting the car in gear. He noticed his Baby purred like a lion.

    “And what exactly are you doing at a small garage in this small town?” he asked.

    “My cousin, Chuck, was struggling with the garage. Said he needed someone like me to help him get it back on track,” you explained.

    “And did you?”

    “Yeah. And he screwed me over. I want to open my own place. Design custom cars. Imagine new concepts and bring them into being. I want to restore old cars,” you could see it all so clearly in your head, and it was beautiful.

    A moment of disbelief and silence passed over Dean. He didn’t know why he expected her to be like every other woman he dated. (Y|N) was very much her own person. Even so, he ignored the part of him that wanted her to want him back.

    “Chuck is your cousin?” he asked eyeing you quickly.

    “Yeah, twice removed or something,” you were still mad at him. “Nobody fucks you over like family.”

    Dean couldn’t have agreed more. His brother had been stealing his thunder since they were little. His latest stunt of getting engaged just as their dad was about to retire was a stroke of genius. Dean was the one who had given up everything to help his dad. The first few years after his mother had died were a nightmare, not just because she was gone, but his dad changed, and not for the better.

* * *

    “Wow. Nice place, Winchester. Didn’t think brewers did this well,” you said eyeing his very cool apartment. Cement floors, modern furniture and fixtures. Sleek lines. Very industrial with exposed plumbing and electrical against brick and wood walls.

    “Thanks,” he said from the kitchen. “Drink?”

    “Yeah, anything is fine,” you said still looking.

    “Go ahead, look around,” he said, “I’ll bring you something.”

    Everything was so neat and tidy. If you’d wanted to snoop, you couldn’t. You didn’t see anything personal lying out. Spotting an industrial-looking bookshelf, you wandered over to look. It held a picture of him and a blonde woman and another of him and a younger boy, whom you assumed was his brother.

    “It’s my mom,” he said from behind you. He held out a drink to you and indicated the blonde woman.

    Taking the glass, you had a sip of the well-made drink, “You didn’t mention your mom at all, what’s her story?”

    “She was great. Kept us all from killing each other. She encouraged me to go to Bemidji State for automotive engineering. I was about three years in when she fell asleep at the wheel and wrecked her car. It wasn’t that bad of a wreck, but she hit her head so hard… She didn’t make it. My dad generously allowed me to finish my last semester before ordering me back to the farm.”

    “I’m sorry I won’t get to meet her,” you were genuinely sympathetic. “My dad died a few years ago. Things just aren’t the same without him.”

    “I’m going to take a quick shower,” he took a step in the direction of the bathroom you’d spotted earlier.

    “Take a look in the kitchen for some food or one of the takeout menus. I don’t feel like going out.”

    There had to be more to this guy than he was letting on. There was money to be made producing beer, but _this_ much?

    His kitchen was surprisingly well stocked, but with canned meals and frozen dinners. There was a small stack of menus clipped together and hanging from a hook on the wall near the phone.

    “Jesus. Who has a landline anymore?” you chuckled.

    Looking at the buttons, you saw speed-dial #3 was most pressed and the faded name said, “Slade’s.” The menu was on the top of the stack. After a quick browse of the menu, you found what you wanted and made the call. As suspected, when Slade’s answered, they were expecting Dean. They knew what his favorite order was, double bacon cheeseburger, large curly fries and chocolate shake. You gave them your order and told them you’d pay when it arrived. They were good with that arrangement and told you it would take about twenty minutes.

    When you made sure you had enough cash for the delivery, you picked up your drink and went to the wall of windows. He had a great view of the lake. The night sky was clear, and some stars were visible. The moon had gotten full and was making the lake sparkle in the darkness. Finding a radio on the bookshelf, you turned it on and sipped your drink until Dean was done.

    Dean picked out clean clothes, flannel plaid shirt and jeans, then got in the shower. His mind was doing quarter-mile sprints. Family business. (Y|N). Brewery. (Y|N)’s business. (Y|N). Her lips. Her eyes peeking from under her hood. The soft curves of her body.

    “Get it together,” he told himself.

    He dried off and got dressed. The last time he got his hair cut, he bought a jar of the gunk she used to tame his hair and used some on his already drying hair. At least is smelled good.

    In the living room, (Y|N) was still holding the drink he’d made and was looking out the windows that lined the whole outer wall of his apartment. She’d turned off all the lights, but she still saw him coming.

    “You have a great view here,” you said as he approached.

    “Thanks,” he said, stopping near you to also admire the view.

    You turned to face the interior and leaned against one of the brick supports.

    “This surprised me though,” you indicated the décor. “I wasn’t expecting modern.”

    _She’s been thinking about me,_ he thought.

    “Oh really? What were you expecting?” he was curious.

    “Well…” you mused. “Look at you, flannel and jeans. I thought you’d have big, plush, over-stuffed furniture and maybe a nice rug to warm it up…”

    He took a drink from his glass, she wasn’t far off.

    “Furniture came with the place,” he explained. “I’m not here much to care. Did you find food?”

    “Oh, yeah, I did. I didn’t know Slade’s delivered.”

    He looked a little sheepish, “I’m a regular… and a good tipper.”

    “They knew your favorite,” you agreed.

    A few moments later, the door buzzed, and the Slade’s deliver driver was let into the building. Dean reached to turn on the lights, but you stopped him.

    “Please, don’t. The moonlight is so pretty,” you said.

    Dean let his hand fall away from the switch. You went to the door with him, grabbing the money off the counter as you passed. You could feel Dean’s sideways glance at you.

    “I owe you one,” you said as he opened the door.

    “Hi!” you heard the man say, then a pause, “Everything okay, Dean?”

    “Yeah,” he said, and silently, you handed Dean the money. “I think we’ll be eating by the windows tonight.”

    “Oh, right, nice night for it,” you heard the money and bags exchange. “Your girl sounds like a keeper. Glad you’re finally getting out there.”

    They exchanged a few more pleasantries and you went into the kitchen to look for candles. The door to the apartment finally closed. Finding some candles, you went to clear off the coffee table and arrange the candles there, so you could see a little better. Dean put the bags and cups on the table, pulled out a zippo and lit the candles. Not finding coasters, you took napkins from the bag and put them under the drinks.

    “Do you smoke?” you sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table and started taking out your food.

    “No,” Dean sat down on the opposite side. “I just keep it in case I need it. Like to light candles when the lights work just fine.”

    “Emergencies, got it,” you smiled. Your food smelled so good. You’d only had Slade’s once because it was on the other side of town from where you lived. If it tasted as good as it smelled and looked, you thought maybe you could make the trek more often.

    “Tell me about the gala and why I need a dress,” you began.

    He was unwrapping his burger and looked up at you without moving his head.

    “It’s a gala,” he said as though it were obvious.

    “You know there’s more than one kind, right?” you asked. “Don’t be an ass.”

    He supposed you had a point, but he wasn’t going to admit he might be wrong.

    “It’s a formal, black-tie event,” he took a bite. Scotty knew how to do burgers. “Dad likes to show off for the board and shareholders. Show everyone how well they’re doing. He makes a big deal of it, real fancy. That’s why you need a dress.”

    “I have a dress, but if we’re gonna go for wow-factor, I’m gonna need some help,” you told him between bites of fries.

    “How the hell am I supposed to help?”

    “You can buy me some earrings. Good ones. Real stones. That way, if things go south, I can keep the earrings for my trouble.” For you, it was the perfect solution.

    Dean looked at you and considered his options. He didn’t care for being put on the spot like that, but he also knew how to roll with the punches. His mind flashed to the ring in his safe, but he wasn’t going to give that up, ever. If it meant getting (Y|N) to go with him, he would dip into his savings to do it.

    “If I agree, will you let it go at that?” he asked. “I’m not interested in a stage 5 clinger. And what guarantee do I have that you won’t bolt as soon as you get them?”

    “Come across many ‘clingers’?”

    “Don’t be so surprised, I’m a catch,” he said. “Before I came here, people knew my family. Dad had gotten really successful and stayed that way. I tended to attract women who were only looking to have access to the family money,” he chose his words carefully. The word gold-digger had been thrown around too much in his past. “I wasn’t above taking advantage of that.”

    “Ever have a serious one?”

    “Serious clinger?”

    “No, serious girlfriend.”

    “Once. Dad approved. He liked that she was from a “good” family, had their own… money.”

    “What happened?” you popped in a fried cheese ball. His story was almost like a damned dime-store romance novel.

    “Got real close to getting married,” he drank some chocolate milkshake. “Called it off a week before. We thought we were doing the right thing. It was almost like it was expected of us. It was really more about our parents.”

    “And after that, your family lost their minds?”

    “Just my dad, so I came back here. I couldn’t take working for him anymore anyway,” he said, unwilling to say more just yet. “What about you? What’s your story? How the hell are you related to Chuck?”

    “I don’t have much of a story,” you admitted with a shrug. “Girl from a small Iowa town. Not much to do but kiss a bunch of frogs looking for a prince and messing around with cars. Moved around a bit chasing my car design dream. Never quite found the right fit. Chuck needed help running his shithole, so I moved here and pulled his ass out of the fire. I really don’t know how we’re related. I think our grandpas are brothers. All I know is, my mom called and said I needed to help him.”

    “Didn’t you say he never shared the profits?”

    You nodded, “Takes vacations every quarter ‘cause of me, the ungrateful bastard.”

   “What did you say about family?”

    “No one fucks you over like family.”

    There was a moment of silent agreement between the two of you. Dean thinking about all the ways both Sam and their dad would try to pick him apart over the next week. He almost felt bad for dragging you into it. You thought about how you would dedicate your coming success to all the assholes who said you couldn’t do it, especially that fuckwad, Chuck. It just reminded you that sometimes the family you pick is stronger than the family you’re born with.

    “Oh, I almost forgot,” you said, “I went to Donna’s today.”

    Dean stopped mid-chew, “Yeah?”

    “She wants you to know she does CrossFit. What’s that about? Do you train?”

    “Ah… no. So. Does this whole thing mean we’re agreed to terms?”

    “You get me that down payment and I will make them believe. But you gotta pretend you like me too, ya know,” you said.

    Dean knew it wouldn’t be a problem. He didn’t go to the garage because he couldn’t do the work himself. He liked that (Y|N) knew more about cars than he did. He liked that she didn’t give a shit who he was. Most importantly, she didn’t want anything from him except to get paid for seven days of work. He thought she was easy enough to get along with, it wouldn’t be that difficult to amp it up.

    “I’ll do what I can,” he said.

    You could see the twinkle in his eye despite the dry tone of his voice.

    “Alright. Now onto the goods. What’s _our_ story?” you asked.

    “What, like how did we meet?”

    “You know everyone’s gonna ask… or have you been telling your family a line of bullshit already?”

    Dean rolled his eyes.

    “Hey man, I’m just asking. This is your idea. We should be as honest as possible so it’s easy to remember,” you reasoned. “We met when you brought your car to my garage.”

    “Can we say it as something like rebuilding the carburetor?”

    You laughed, “Honesty, remember? First date?”

    Dean wiped his hands on a napkin and gestured widely. “Here we are,” he said between chews of burger.

    “But how are you going to tell it? You can’t just say ‘burgers’. Also, who asked out whom?”

    Dean silently groaned at the correct grammar Sam would probably like about (Y|N).

    “Well, I asked you…” he began.

    “…but you had to work up the nerve,” you added.

    He sighed, “The fermenter thing happened at work, and we end up at my place ordering in and eating by candle light.”

    “Wow,” you bit off the end of a curly fry, “you really know how to make a girl swoon.”

    “Alright, mouthy, how would you tell it?”

    “Better,” you grinned.

    “Wiseass,” he grumbled.

    Once the initial awkwardness was out of the way, you and Dean spent the rest of your dinner talking about yourselves. By the end of the night, you’d told Dean more about yourself than you had anyone in past relationships. It wasn’t hard to tell him, though. Once your deal was done, that ended your obligation to him and things could go back to normal.

    Eventually, you finished your meal and had two more drinks with Dean before you realized the candles were barely flickering and how late it had gotten.

    “Crap,” you almost didn’t want to leave, “will you take me home?”

    Dean looked at his empty glass and the now empty bottles of liquor in his kitchen. He was slouched down on the couch next to (Y|N) and didn’t care if he ever moved again.

    “I’m too tired to move,” his voice barely audible next to you.

    It was already fast approaching early morning. Cabs quit going out at least an hour prior. You didn’t have your car and you had too much to drink to drive Dean’s car home. It was a struggle just to move. You blew out the candles and went to the kitchen for water. Shuffling back to the couch, Dean’s head was lolled back and was out like a light.

    Turning to your right, you looked past him to where the bedroom area was in the loft-style apartment. With your glass of water in hand, you sipped the drink and thought about the odd turn of events your life had taken in the last day and slowly walked towards Dean’s bed. It felt strange to be getting into his bed while he was on the couch, but the light snoring coming from the living room told you it was fine. After taking off your boots and a few things you didn’t need to sleep in, you pulled back the covers and got in his bed.

* * *

    Everything hurt. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stayed awake so long and he was sure he’d never fallen asleep on the couch before. His shoulder hurt from sleeping on it, his hip hurt from being twisted, and his legs felt like logs from not being elevated like the rest of him. His head didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would and that was a big plus.

    The memory of the night before came flooding back. He sat up quickly and his body screamed back at him to slow down. His apartment was quiet. No sounds of sleeping, running water, nothing. Gingerly, he looked over his shoulder at his bed. It wasn’t made, but the covers had been pulled up on one side. No (Y|N).

    Slightly disappointed, he turned back around and saw what she’d left for him on the coffee table. A tall glass of water, three ibuprofen and a note.

            **_Thought you might need these. I’ll be back later so we can get going._**

**_(Y|N)_ **

    Dean had barely downed the pills and water when he heard his door being unlocked. He got up from the couch in time to see (Y|N) stepping in and closing the door.

    “What the hell?” he winced at his own voice.

    It only took you a moment to guess he’d just woken up. The weave of the couch fabric was printed on his face. His eyes were bleary, clothes and hair a mess.

    _Kinda cute,_ you thought.

    “I needed to go home to clean up and pack. You were still out, so I took your car,” you explained softly. “I got you some donuts from Donna. She put them in the crispest bag she could find.”

    The slightest movement made the bag crinkle loudly.

    “She’s diabolical,” Dean thought out loud and took the bag. “What time is it anyway?”

    “Almost noon. We need to get going. Maybe go to Minneapolis on the way. Hit the Mall of America and one of the jewelry stores in there,” you suggested.

    You’d gotten the coffee for yourself, but you took pity on him and set it on the bar where he’d landed with the donuts.

    “You still have to pack,” you nudged. “I was thinking we could just get a room at the hotel at the mall.”

    Dean was trying so hard to get to the donuts and not make the bag yell. Hearing her hotel suggestion, he raised an eyebrow at her.

    “Don’t get cocky. We can get two beds,” you said.

    “I suppose I get to pay for that, too?” he asked taking a drink of your coffee. It warmed his soul.

    “I’ll get the hotel, but the rest is you. We need to get going,” you said.

    He groaned.

    “You know we’re not in a real relationship, right?” he took another drink of the coffee.

    “We are for a week, _honey,_ ” you teased. You looked around his apartment, “Not a single Christmas decoration.”

    “What?” he finally retrieved a donut from the bag and was quickly plowing through it.

    “It’s a week before Christmas, and you would never know it in here.”

    “I don’t do Christmas,” he started on the second donut.

    You knew not everyone liked the holiday or observed it, but there was always a reason and you wanted to know his. The evening before, you’d both agreed that if the ruse was going to work, full disclosure was a must.

    “Spill,” you said.

    Dean was having regrets about this agreement…

    “After mom… dad was a mess. Barely alive. Christmas was mom’s favorite holiday. She would bake pies just for me. Bake everything imaginable while singing Christmas songs. The whole house would be decorated, top to bottom…”

    “Which songs?”

    “Her favorite was _Sleigh Ride…_ some chick group. I’d know ‘em if I heard ‘em.”

    “The Ronettes,” you filled in.

    “Yeah, that’s it,” his expression melancholy. “As I said, mom held it all together. So, when she was gone, the first year, we just couldn’t bear to do anything, then…”

    “…It became a habit,” you guessed.

    He shrugged.

    “Gonna take you long to pack?” you asked.

    “Geeze. Calm down, slave-driver.”

    Dean finished the donuts and coffee and felt surprisingly good. He wondered what deals Donna had made for her donuts to be that magical.

    “Not long,” he said and disappeared into his bedroom area.

    Four and a half hours later, you were in Minneapolis, had gotten a hotel room at the Mall of America and were walking into the mall with Dean to find the nearest jewelers. Stopping in front of a jewelers called The Crossroads, you spoke to Dean.

    “Just play along, it’ll be good practice,” you told him and slung your arm through his as you went inside.

    (Y|N) obviously had something special in mind because she immediately found the case with the most expensive jewelry. He fought the urge to cry as he envisioned his bank account draining.

    “Looking for a tasteful engagement ring?”

    A man suddenly appeared behind the display case (Y|N) was browsing. He wore all black with a blood red pocket square. Den was instantly put off by the man.

    “No. We’re not,” Dean was blunt.

    (Y|N) didn’t miss a beat. She stood up straight and put her arm around his waist. Playing along like she asked, Dean put his arm around her shoulders. He also didn’t like the way that man was looking at her, like he was thinking of how he would devour her…

    “No, ‘fraid not,” you said, cheerily, “It’s for our anniversary. We’ve been together for a year now and I need something flashy for a party we’re going to.”

    “Of course.”

    Dean thought he looked upset for a moment, but the man continued.

    “I’m Crowley, m’dear. How may I help?”

    “I’m in need of some truly stunning, obscene, emerald earrings.”

    “Yes, of course. I have a few pieces in back. Give me a moment?”

    You nodded.

    “Please feel free to look around,” Crowley added and disappeared behind a curtain.

    As soon as he was sure Crowley was gone, Dean said quietly to you, “I don’t like that guy.”

    You laughed softly, “Why? You just met him.”

    Dean kept a protective arm around you.

    “He’s too… greasy. I don’t trust him,” he confided.

    “Well, you can trust me. I know the real stuff and I’ll know if he’s trying to jack up the prices,” you assured, but your guard was definitely up.

    “Alright, just remember, it’s not carte blanche, show a little restraint,” he reminded you as Crowley reappeared with three boxes in hand.

    Crowley laid out the boxes on a piece of matching blood red velvet cloth. The man moved with smug flourish. It seemed like every move he made was for show. When he looked up at you, you saw what Dean noticed right away. Crowley seemed to be sizing you up in every way imaginable. You felt the muscles in your body tighten making your skin feel prickly.

    “What do we want to say with the baubles? Subtle elegance? Stunning beauty?” he paused only slightly, “Much like the lady herself.”

    “We need the wow-factor. The should be gorgeous, but not gaudy. Noticeable, but elegant.”

    The first two boxes held beautiful earrings but there was something about each that just didn’t sit right with you, they didn’t have the qualities you were looking for. Neither set seemed right for your dress, either. When you leaned down to look closely at the settings, you knew.

    “What do you think, love?” he asked you as you straightened. His fingers went to the remaining box.

    “I think you’re showing me shiny pieces of garbage hoping I’ll take the bait,” you eyed him. “Don’t get me wrong, they are beautiful, but I think you’re holding back. I want to make a good deal here, Mr. Crowley.”

    “Oh, I assure you Ms.…”

    **_“Mrs._** Winchester.”

    “ _Missus,_ we always make deals at The Crossroads,” he tried to assure you.

    He opened the third box and finally you saw the ones you had to have. They were perfect. Real emeralds set in a gold leaf pattern that would go up your ear lobe and would only slightly dangle down your neck.

    “Would you like to try it on?” he asked, pulling one free of the box.

    “May I?”

    “Allow me,” he said, oozing charm and reaching for your ear.

    “Easy pal,” Dean warned. “The lady is quite capable.”

    “Is the lumberjack jealous?” Crowley asked you. He cupped your hand in his as he placed the earring in your palm.

    Dean was not amused. He felt like a clockwork spring wound too tight standing next to you. The earring felt heavy in your hand before you pushed the post through your earlobe and secured it.

    Dean kept an eye on the handsy jeweler. Images flashed through his head about punching that smug look off his face. (Y|N) was busy looking at her ear in the mirror and he didn’t hear what she said.

    “Dean?”

    He snapped back to reality.

   “How does it look?” she asked.

    With their mutually beneficial arrangement in place, he’d had nothing but his goal in mind when he asked her to help him. It had come as quite a surprise that he liked her and not just because she was a genius with cars. She was looking up at him, waiting for his response. He tucked away a stray piece of her hair, fingertips brushing her skin, lingering. For just a moment, for her, he felt himself soften.

    “Beautiful.”

    Desperately, you tried to ignore the sudden rapid pace your decided to run and turned back to Crowley, your face feeling hot…

  “I’d like these please,” you said taking the earring out of your ear.

    “Darling,” Crowley leaned close, his voice conspiratorial, “can the lumberjack afford these treasures you so richly deserve?”

    That was the last straw. He’d gone too far. You overlooked the blatant ogling, the touches. He’d insulted your “husband” and you were having none of it.

    “You know, I find your behavior to be in shockingly poor taste. I come in here with my _husband_ and this is how we get treated? If I wanted to be judged by assholes, I’d go to church!” you were staring directly into Crowley’s dark eyes, unblinking. He returned your gaze, unwavering. “Your comments show extreme lack of culture. My husband my like plaid, flannel shirts, but he’s comfortable an I think he looks damn good. It doesn’t mean a damn thing what he’s wearing.”

    “Of course, madam, please forgive me. Sometimes I just need someone to remind me of what an ass I can be. Would you care to negotiate?” he asked, his eyebrow kicking up.

    You were certain he felt zero shame for what he had said. The man was just confident in his bullshit. He was only saying it to get a rise out of one or both of you.

    An hour after you and Dean walked into the store, you were walking back out with a velvet, blood red box with matching bag in hand. Dean had been so good at playing his part with you, you kind of forgot he was even trying. You’d liked the way he put his arm around you and how you fit into his side. His arm felt strong and warm pressed against you as you walked with him. It was easy to pretend you belonged with him. It felt good.

    “How’d I do?” he asked.

    You were unprepared for how hard you came crashing down. You let go of his arm and held the pretty red bag with both hands. You knew you were being stupid, you’d asked him to practice after all, but he had a lot of nerve being so convincing.

    “You were good, totally believable,” you tried to keep your voice even.

    It bothered you how there was a space between you. You were playing a role and nothing more. You shouldn’t be letting yourself like it too much, it would just hurt more later.

    “It was good to practice,” he said as he walked with you, seemingly oblivious, but Dean noticed your change in attitude.

    “We work pretty well together,” you said.

    “Not bad,” he admitted. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

    It was a long walk back to the hotel.

    “It’s what wives do, right?”

    “Hey, I was thinking,” he said. “Would it be too… weird if we said you were my fiancé?” he asked.

    You hated your stupid heart for getting excited at the thought. It was hard to say no to a week of being Dean Winchester’s fiancé.

    “If you’re going to propose, Dean, I’m going to at least need room service and some sort of ring,” you were getting back to feeling better about the situation. You’d never been engaged before, real or otherwise, might be the only chance you would get.

    He chuckled, “It’s always something.”

    “Hey man, I want the full experience,” you tried to joke.

    Dean looked at her and wondered how much was real from her. Not for the first time, he regretted making this stupid arrangement. He was kicking himself for never asking her out.

    The rest of the walk back to the hotel room was filled with small talk and banter. It was all so confusing. You were supposed to be playing a part, it was going to be hard to stay detached, especially when playing the part felt so good.

* * *

    The whole week was going to be an exhausting nightmare. Getting back to the hotel room was a relief. (Y|N) didn’t want to go out to eat and he appreciated that. Before she went to take a shower to “wash away the day,” she asked him to order room service and charge it to the room. Dean looked over the menu and placed an order for them.

    She came out of the bathroom wearing plaid flannel pajama bottoms, a band t-shirt, and looked impossibly cute. Her hair was still damp, and she smelled fantastic. Not knowing when the food was coming, he decided to get cleaned up as well.

    “I ordered us some pasta. I didn’t know if you liked it,” he said in passing.

    “Oh, I do. Good call,” you said.

    He chuckled when he saw (Y|N) jump onto one of the beds and grabbed the tv remote. Not wanting to waste any time, he got busy with his shower and tried to figure out how to give her his grandmother’s ring to borrow.

* * *

    Dean managed to take the fastest shower in history. Five minutes after the shower started, it stopped, and you could hear the shower door clang shut. Moments later, room service knocked, and you went to answer the door. After unlocking, you opened the door to let them in, pressing yourself against the closed bathroom door. They’d barely gotten the cart past you when Dean opened the bathroom door, toppling you backward into him. He let out a soft ‘oof’ but caught you from falling on the floor. His body was hot from his shower and the feel of him behind you warmed you in more ways than one.

    “Well hello,” he said. “Already falling for me,” he set you back on your feet.

    You knew he was just teasing you, but it didn’t stop your stupid heart from doing The Twist in your chest. You really wished it would quit doing that. Struggling to find a witty comeback, all you could muster was, “I need to give them a tip.”

    Dean cleaned up the bathroom allowing you to tip the room service person, so they could leave. The door clicked shut and Dean put the security bolt and latch in place. Mercifully, Dean got a bottle of wine that the room service person had uncorked for you. When he joined you at the table, you had already poured a glass and had taken a drink.

    “I didn’t know what to get,” he said taking a seat.

    You took another drink and appreciated the wave of relaxation that floated over you. You weren’t over indulging by any means, it just helped you to relax around him enough to act like a relatively normal person.

    You lifted the cover on your dish and were hit with the decadent aroma of creamy garlic alfredo sauce.

    “You did just fine,” you told him with a smile.

    Two nights in a row you had dinner and drinks with Dean Winchester. When you let your guard down and weren’t trying to impress anyone, when it was just the two of you talking, getting to know one another, it was so much easier. You’d always looked at him like a customer and being off limits, but now… now you let yourself see how good looking he was and well, you probably wouldn’t have a job to go back to, so what the hell.

   You found out that you had similar interests and shared similar viewpoints on many topics. It surprised you how he knew so much about cars, but continually brought his to your shop.

    “Not that I mind getting my hands on that sexy car, but why do you bring her to me? You seem like you know every inch of her like the back of your hand. I saw all the work you did when I got her up on the rack,” you wondered. “You might have missed your calling.”

    He felt like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

    “Uncle Bobby got the dealerships and he had a good handle on that. Dad was the one that needed me, so that’s what I did. The first time I brought Baby…”

    “Oh my god, I didn’t know she had a name…” you giggled. It was good wine.

    “My buddy moved, and I no longer had access to a garage. Then I liked the work you did… and you greased the doors,” he took a drink from his own wine glass before continuing. “It didn’t hurt that I thought the shop manager was cute as hell in coveralls.”

    For half a second, you didn’t realize it was you he was talking about. When you did, you burst out laughing.

    “Not too bad yourself, Impala Guy,” you admitted.

    “Impala Guy?”

    _Goddamn he’s cute,_ you thought. “Yeah, I recognize people by their cars first ‘til I can remember their name. You were Impala Guy for a while.”

    After your dinner, Dean cleaned up the dishes and put the try on the floor outside the door. You moved your chair close to his bed and found a movie to watch on TV. You were buzzed and feeling sleepy, but “Die Hard” was on and you weren’t going to miss it. Dean claimed the bed that had the best view, so you kicked your feet up on the corner of the bed, ready to watch.

    Dean was digging in his duffle for the small box. He’d wrapped it in a t-shirt to keep it safe. Finally finding it, he went back to the bd, feeling a little nervous. He sat on the bed with his legs crisscrossed under him.

    “What are we watching?” he asked.

    “Best Christmas movie ever,” you answered without shifting your gaze from the TV.

    She could have picked anything, some sappy chick-flick, a traditional Christmas movie, but she had picked “Die Hard.”

    “Die Hard? Seriously?” he might have found the most perfect woman ever.

   “Hell yes,” you confirmed.

    He couldn’t believe his luck in picking (Y|N). How cool could one woman be? He watched the movie with her until the first commercial break.

    “So,” he cleared his throat, “man, this seemed easier in my head…” He clutched the small box in his hand. “It was a good idea practicing today.”

    “Yeah,” you agreed. “It was kinda…nice. I didn’t like that Crowley being a dick to you for no reason.”

    “I was thinking it would be good if we could do that for my family, too. Not married, but,” he held out the box and opened it, “Will you be my fake fiancé?”

   The ring was beautiful. The band itself was silver and held stones of sapphire and diamond. If you could have picked an engagement ring for yourself, it would have been that one.

    “Holy cow,” your throat was suddenly very dry. “Yes.”

    Dean pulled the ring out of the box and you were surprised to see your hand shaking as it easily slipped onto your finger. It looked as though it had always been there. You couldn’t stop staring at it.

    “It’s so beautiful,” you whispered.

    “Don’t get too attached to it, I’m gonna need that back,” he said. “It was my grandmother’s.”

    “Wow… way to go grandpa,” you said.

    The movie came back on and they continued watching. Occasionally, Dean would catch movement out the corner of his eye. When he would look over at (Y|N), she would be looking at the ring, smiling.

    When the movie was almost over, (Y|N) had gone to her own bed, but she was lying down so she could still see the TV. Part of him wanted to just man up and go for her. The other part of him knew it was best to stick to the plan. There was no telling what would happen if he got tangled up with (Y|N).

    _But getting tangled up in the sheets with her…_ he thought.

    “Stop it, Dean,” he chided himself.

    His eyes flashed to (Y|N). Her eyes had closed falling asleep before she could see Argyle drive the McClane’s away. _My life is Nakatomi Plaza. Yippie ky yay._ He hit the power button on the TV and the room went black.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip to Kansas and meeting the Singers and John Winchester. Will they believe that the reader is really Dean’s fiancé, or will they see through the ruse?

     You were in the Impala waiting for Dean. He had stopped at yet another gas station. Baby was a great car, but she didn’t sip gas, she guzzled. You got out your phone while you waited.

     “This is beginning to be a bad habit,” Ryan said when she answered the phone. “How is it going?”

     “It’s good,” you were trying to keep your excitement under control. “The day I told him, we had dinner at his place, and we drank all of his booze.”

     “Thank God,” she was fully aware of how you were wen you were drinking. “Did ya get it?”

     “Get what?”

     “Oh, come on. You know exactly what I mean. Impala Guy is HOT. Please tell me you at least let him round the bases.”

     “You’ve been hanging out with Donna too much,” you observed.

     “Well?”

     “No. He fell asleep on the couch. We were talking ‘til really late,” you explained. “I… had to sleep in his bed.”

     “That’s kinda hot… what happened yesterday? Did you get the jewels yet?” Ryan wanted to know.

     “Oh my God, yes. They’re these gorgeous emeralds in gold. Amazing,” you confirmed. “We’re about 70 miles outside of Lawrence. He’s been going slow this last leg. Oh, and we got fake engaged last night.”

     “What?! That’s the stuff you need to lead with! How did that happen?!”

     “We posed as a married couple for the earrings and it was…” you sighed, “SO good. He fell into it naturally. I think he might have actually liked it. He’s letting me borrow his grandmother’s ring.”

     “You need to send me a picture of that as soon as we hang up. So why’s he taking so long to get there? How long have you been on the road?”

     “Getting close to eight hours,” you said. “Stopped for gas twice and lunch. This time is a top-off and a pee break.”

     “TMI honey. Maybe he just wants to hang out with you and not his family,” Ryan suggested.

     Ryan probably wasn’t far off. Dean hadn’t out right expressed hesitation, but you could feel it.

     “Yeah, maybe. Finally. Here he comes, gotta go,” you told Ryan when you saw him crossing to the car.

    “Picture!” Ryan reminded. “Bye!”

     Dean opened the door and got in the car.

     “Bye!” you hung up. You’d already taken a picture of the gorgeous ring and quickly sent it to Ryan.

     “Who’re you talkin’ to?” Dean was curious.

     “My friend, Ryan, I told you about. She was checking up on me,” you answered.

     “Did you tell her how handsome I am and what a perfect gentleman I’ve been?” he aske with a hint of mischief.

     You laughed, “Um, yeah, actually, and she’s a little disappointed.”

     He started the car and pulled out of the gas station.

     “Disappointed? Did you not sell this?” he moved his hand up and down by his face as he drove.

     “She’s disappointed for… _other_ reasons,” you couldn’t believe you were even _hinting_ at sex with Dean.

     “Oh?”

     You raised your eyebrows at him and nodded.

     “Oh,” he grinned. “Well, keeping it professional.” He mocked being serious.

     “Absolutely,” you agreed.

     A few moments passed and Dean’s demeanor went to real seriousness.

     “I think I should warn you about my dad,” he saw he had your attention. “He’s… a jerk. There aren’t a lot of people that like him. Bobby only hangs around because they have a history and because Dad keeps his nose out of the dealerships.”

     “Does Bobby like him?” you were a little concerned.

     Dean took a beat to think on it.

     “I think Bobby respects him,” Dean said, but didn’t say _but I don’t think he likes him._ “Anyway, he’s gonna say things to you, because of me, that you probably won’t like.”

     “What kind of things?” now you were really concerned.

     “I told you I used to ‘date’ less than reputable women…”

     “Wow. Your dad seems so charming,” sarcasm was your reliable friend in times of stress.

     “Yeah, he’s a real peach. Just don’t let the façade fool you.”

     “What about your brother and his fiancé?”

     “Sam…he’s as smart as they come. Lawyer. Bit of a stick in the mud… grammar nazi… thinks he’s doing the right thing though he’s wrong half the time. Jess is a piece of work. She doesn’t always mean to be a bitch, but she really can come off that way. It’ll just hit you later.”

     You bit your lip, then said, “My how you paint a picture.”

     “They’re not so bad once you get used to ‘em,” Dean offered.

     After he let you in on what his family was really like, you thought maybe you should let him in on a little secret you’d been keeping.

     “I have something I need to tell you, too,” you began. “It always comes up when people find out what I do. It’s like some weird compulsion to ask. Like the validity of my chosen career is dependent on it…”

     “Just rip off the band aid.”

     “I drive a Tesla,” you blurted. The words came out more like one long word than an actual sentence. You cringed waiting for his reaction.

     “I don’t even know what to say to you right now,” Dean looked like he was going to be sick. “How do you get anywhere long-distance?!” He wasn’t yelling, but he was fully horrified at your choice in car. It was almost comical.

     “I fly,” you said, finding his behavior amusing, “or I drive my other car. But my Tesla has really good range and hauls ass.”

     Dean had a pained look on his face. He hadn’t expected the band aid to sting so much. “Oh God, what’s your other car?” _Don’t say hybrid. Don’t say hybrid. Don’t say hybrid._

     You were getting the giggles, “An… Altima,” you said between giggles, “hybrid.”

     “Goddamnit,” he hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “I can’t talk to you right now. No more talking.”

     “Dean…”

     “Nope!” he put his hand up and shook his head, “Shh…”

     Dean listened to the deep rumble Baby produced as he pressed the gas pedal. _Good, American muscle car. Now that’s what a car should sound like,_ he thought.

     “Alright,” he broke the silence. “What’s your top speed?”

     “Two-fifty.”

     He snorted in disbelief. Admittedly, he hadn’t seen a Tesla in action and he hadn’t been keeping up on the new car specs. That was an impressive top-speed.

     “What’s the zero to sixty?”

     “You know, I’m kind of excited to meet your family,” you were desperate to change the topic.

     “What’s the matter sweetheart, embarrassed?”

    “No. I just feel like we’re playing ‘whose sword is bigger’.”

     “Oh, I know my sword is bigger,” he was goading you, but you resolved not to take the bait. “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” you mumbled to the window.

     “Any time, darlin’,” he heard you.

     “Okay, but I wanna drive a GOAT or something comparable,” you countered.

     “You are so on,” Dean said and made a mental note to check into Telsa.

 

 

     Th closer he got to the house, the more he wanted to turn around and head back to Bemidji. Life was normal there. No one gave a shit about him. He could do his work and fade into the background. No stupid gala’s he had to attend for a company he wanted but would probably never have. He looked at (Y|N) to gauge her mood.

     “I can handle them, Dean,” she tried to reassure him.

     “I know you can,” he answered back. He made the turn into the lane and slowly drove up to the house.

 

     The drive up the lane was a sight you hadn’t expected. Dean always called it ‘the farm.’ All the farms you had ever been to had livestock and crops. The Winchester ‘farm’ was more like an acreage with out buildings. The house itself was two-stories, quite old, and massive. The wrap-around porch had a swing secured near the ceiling. The house had to be at least a hundred years old and you couldn’t wait to see inside.

     Dean came around the front of the car to where you stood by your closed door. He looked slightly apologetic as he approached you. He swung his arms out wide, his palms slapping his thighs as he let them drop. Dean leaned on the car in front of you, his arm propped on the roof.

     “Last chance to back out,” he offered.

     “A deal’s a deal,” you put your arm between him and the car and around his back. “I’ve got your back.”

     He put his arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him. For the tenth time that day, he wished the week were over.

     “I’ve got you, too. If it gets too much, you let me know,” he said, his lips brushing your temple.

     You could feel yourself melting into him despite the frigid air.

     “Alright,” you squeezed him, “showtime!”

     You were nervous as hell thought you were trying to put on a good face for Dean. It didn’t take a psychologist to realize he was wary, too. For a second, he held you just as tightly before letting you go and taking your hand.

     “Leave the bags, I’ll get them later. It’s too damn cold out here,” he looked back at you, his eyes crinkled, squinting against the bright sun.

     He led you up the steps, your hand in his. At the door, you stood close to him as he opened it and stepped through. There was no turning back now.

 

 

     Dean had to give the front door a fir push to open it. It still stuck in the same spot it always had. The house was warm inside, and a fire was going in the fireplace. It surprised him, a little, that that house had Christmas decorations and a tree. (Y|N) was hesitant behind him, but she followed a moment later when he stepped further into the entryway.

     “El, would you look what the cat dragged in?” Bobby saw Dean first and got up off the couch to greet him. “Damn good to see ya, son! We weren’t sure you’d show up.”

     “Hey, Bobby,” the two men hugged tightly, Bobby slapping Dean’s back. “Good to see you, old man.”

     The two broke their embrace and Bobby warned Dean, “Watch it, son. I may be an old man, but I can still whoop your scrawny ass.”

     Ellen had come over from her spot on the couch to say hello to Dean and hug him as well.

     “Good to see you, Dean. It’s been too long. Me ‘n’ the old man weren’t sure you’d be coming,” Ellen said.

     You smirked at the glare Bobby gave Ellen.

     “Ah, well,” Dean shrugged, “it’s Christmas.”

     “Exactly,” Ellen implied it was why she thought he _wouldn’t_ show up. “Still, glad you’re here.”

     The greetings out of the way, Bobby and Ellen turned their scrutiny to you.

     “Have you finally brought someone home to meet the family?” Ellen asked first. Clearly, she was surprised at your presence.

     “Boy, don’t just stand there like an idjit, introduce us!” Bobby was shocked at Dean’s poor manners.

     Dean had a half-smile on his face. You were still nervous, but excited to finally meet them. Dean had said nothing but good things about Bobby and Ellen Singer. The only pressure you had was to look like Dean’s fiancé. They didn’t have to like you, only Dean did, but you knew it was important to Dean that the Singers liked you.

     “Bobby, Ellen,” Dean was looking at you now, “This is (Y|N), my fiancé.”

    You fought the urge to laugh at the shocked expressions on their faces but you waited for them to say something in return.

     “You’re a fine one for secrets!” Bobby grumbled to Dean. “Hello, darlin’, nice to meet you.”

     The Conway Twitty song immediately got stuck in your head.

     “Forgive our shock, but we didn’t even know Dean was seeing anyone, let alone a fiancé.” Ellen explained.

     “He did only ask me last night,” you offered.

     Dean put his arm around you again, “Wanted to make sure she said ‘yes’ before she met my crazy family.”

     Ellen gave Dean a look that said she heard what he said, but couldn’t decide of how much of it she believed. Dean had always been good about keeping his mouth shut, even in the toughest of circumstances. She just couldn’t believe she didn’t notice a change in Dean. A change that usually happens when he’s seeing someone new, but not this time.

     “The house looks beautiful,” you observed, breaking the tension and taking off your outerwear.

     Dean followed suit while Ellen explained.

     “Thank you. I came out here yesterday and did all this,” she said. “Scrooge likes to put on a good show, he just can’t manage doing the house,” Ellen rolled her eyes. “Come on in, honey. Getcha anything to drink?”

     You gave Dean a quick glance and he gave you a barely detectable nod.

     “Yeah, that sounds great. What do you have?”

     “Everything under the sun and an assortment of holiday standards. C’mon into the kitchen, take a look,” Ellen didn’t wait, she just swung her arm for you to follow and went to the kitchen.

 

 

     Dean was still appreciating the view of (Y|N) disappearing into the kitchen when Bobby started in on him.

     “What in the _hell_ has gotten into you? Have you lost your damned mind? Your daddy is gonna flip his lid when he sees his mamma’s ring on her hand.”

     Dean didn’t know if Bobby was angry or if he was trying to protect him.

     “Well, normal people would be happy if their son got engaged,” Dean mused.

     “I’m sorry, son, of course I’m happy for you, it’s just all so sudden,” Bobby explained.

     They moved into the living room and sat down near the fire to talk.

     “You better tell me. Who is this girl and why are we only finding out about her _after_ you get engaged,” Bobby wanted to know.

     Dean half-laughed. (Y|N) was right, it was good to get everything down before.

     “She’s actually my mechanic. I asked her out about a year ago. We just hit it off,” Dean shrugged. He thought about the last few days, “She just makes me a better man. I like who I am when I’m with her.”

     “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Sam and Jess and your dad thinking about retiring, would it?”

     Nothing in the world felt as heavy, or hit harder, than Bobby’s gaze in that moment. The man seemed to always know when something wasn’t as it appeared. For as much as he wanted to tell Bobby the truth, he just couldn’t, not yet.

     “See? This is what I’m talking about. I tell you what’s going on and I still get questioned. I love her. That should be enough,” Dean wasn’t yelling, but he was getting upset. He took a breath and steeled himself and wondered where that sudden feeling of protecting (Y|N) came from.

     “I think the ladies had a good idea getting a drink,” Bobby said.

 

 

     “What’s your poison?” Ellen asked as she pulled glasses out of the cupboard.

     You told her your favorite and she grabbed a bottle to pour one for you and one for herself. Ellen eyed you with suspicion but admitted, “You have good taste,” and raised her glass. Giving her a nod, you raised your own and you both took a drink.

     “Why do you suppose Dean never told us about you?” She cut right to the chase.

     Dean had filled you in about what you were up against. You remembered that he said Ellen could sniff out bullshit and to just be as truthful as possible.

     “Dean told me about his past. I suppose he didn’t want to disappoint you all again,” you said.

     You could almost see the gears turning in Ellen’s thoughts. She was weighing your words against what she knew to be true.

     “Did he take you to some dive bar on your first date?”

     “No, actually, we were supposed to go out to eat. He didn’t show up to pick up his car like he was supposed to, so I hunted his ass down,” you chuckled at the memory. “When I found him, he had the mash and juice all over him. He ended up taking me to his place and we ordered in. It was really nice. We drank all of his booze and talked until he passed out.”

     Ellen cocked an eyebrow at you, “You… drank Dean Winchester… under the table?”

     “What?! When?!” Dean walked into the kitchen with Bobby.

     “Our first date,” you told Dean as he reached up to get two tumblers out of the cupboard.

     Dean opened a bottle of Jonnie Walker Double Black and poured two fingers in each glass, handing one to his adopted uncle and keeping the other for himself.

     “I was _tired,”_ he stressed, like he’d had to explain himself more than once on the subject. “I didn’t get much sleep the night before and I made it to 3 AM, thank you.”

     “All I’m hearing is excused,” you teased.

     “One time. It hasn’t happened since, but she won’t let me forget it,” he played along.

     Dean gave you a grin and sipped at the whisky.

     “Ohhh…” he caught his breath, “Nectar of the gods.”

     “Warms the soul dudnit?” Bobby said, sipping his own.

     “Yeah,” Dean’s voice was raspy.

     The whisky looked good and you’d never tried it.

     “Can I have a taste?” you asked.

     Dean did a slow mosey over to where you’d sat at the kitchen island. His fingers lightly brushed yours as he handed you the glass. The dark liquid swirled in the glass as you held it, the smoky aroma hitting your nose. Taking a moment to appreciate the whisky, and the close proximity of Dean, you became aware of the heat that seemed to radiate from his body.

     When he’d give you his glass, he rested his arm on the back of your bar stool. Your instincts told you to put your arm around his waist like you had at the store. Dean moved closer, still chatting with Bobby.

     “Where is Dad, anyway?” Dean asked.

    You brought the glass to your lips. Th smooth liquid took a few seconds to make it’s presence known with it’s familiar burn. You let it rest on your tongue to get the full flavor and effect. Smoke. Vanilla. Fruit. Spice.

     “Oh, he’s in town brow-beating the caterer,” Bobby said, enjoying his own tumbler.

     Finally, you could no longer take the burn and let it numb your throat.

     “Holy moly,” you rested your head on Dean’s shoulder.

     Dean responded to your comment and movement.

     “Finally met your match, sweetheart?” he asked reaching for the glass.

     You expertly moved it out of his reach.

     “Mine now,” you teased, then handed it back. “Man, that’s _good._ Not sure I’ll be able to taste dinner now.”

     “Ellen’s cooking, probably best,” Bobby said softly, but everyone heard anyway.

     “Robert Singer!” Ellen whipped a wet dishcloth at his face. The “splat” sound it made when it hit made everyone laugh.

     None of you heard the door off the kitchen open and close. It made the sudden appearance of John Winchester that much more startling.

     “What’s going on in here?” John’s voice boomed in the kitchen, making everyone fall silent.

    “My husband was just embarrassing me in front of Dean’s… new lady,” Ellen grumped. “My cooking is not that bad.”

      “Not that good, either,” Bobby said into his glass.

     Ellen moved from behind the island, not looking at John, and collected her husband.

     “Alcohol makes you bold, Robert” she said as she pushed him out of the room.

     You sat in stunned silence as Dean and his dad had a mini stare-down. John wasn’t unhappy to see his son, but he wasn’t overly excited, either.

     “Hi Dad,” Dean said.

     “Dean,” John crossed he space and hugged him. “Good to see you, son. I’m glad you’re here. Didn’t know you were coming.”

     You elbowed Dean.

     “You invited me,” he said. “Thought it’d be okay.”

     “Of course it is, you know what I mean,” John looked at you, a half-smile on his face. “And a plus one, I see.”

     John seemed nice. You were expecting someone different. Dean took a breath to brace himself and turned to you.

     “(Y|N), this is my dad, John Winchester,” he said waving his hand between the two of you. “Dad… (Y|N) is my fiancé.”

     John’s eyes went to your left hand where his mother’s ring was clearly visible.

     “It’s nice to meet the woman who has stolen my boy’s heart,” he said, extending his hand to you. You jumped down form your barstool to take his hand.

     “Very nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about all of you, it’s nice to meet everyone in person,” you were almost gushing and reminded yourself to reel it in.

     “Hmm,” John released your hand. “It’s funny you should mention that. I don’t remember Dean saying anything about you.” He eyed you, “You must be the real deal. Dean’s never brought one of his lady friends to the house before, certainly not for the gala.” He paused a beat, “You _are_ here for the whole week, right?”

     You nodded.

    “Well then, whisky be damned, we need a bottle of champagne! Not every day my oldest son gets engaged.”

     Dean couldn’t believe his good luck. He thought his dad would have something bad to say about the bombshell he thought he’d dropped. Knowing his father, he didn’t want to get too excited, it still might land…

    You watched John disappear down a staircase behind a door you’d assumed led to the basement wine cellar. He seemed nice enough, but there was something not quite right about him and about what he’d said, you just couldn’t put your finger on it…

     “So,” you began, “your dad seems okay, so far.”

     Dean was standing very close.

    “Yeah, it’s weird. He doesn’t usually like the women I date,” he admitted. “But I kinda did that on purpose, too.”

     “Bring home a lot of winners, did ya?” you teased.

     Dean shrugged, “More like sneak ‘em out.”

     He saw you giving him a look.

     “When I was a horny teenager,” he covered.

     “An as a horny adult?” you asked.

     “Haha. Those were more just meetings in passing,” his voice was low. “And it helped it irritated him.”

     “Such a charmer,” you said.

     Dean slipped his arms between yours and around your back. Moving half a step forward, you left no space between you. His arms felt nice as you ran your hands up the back of them and over his shoulders. He felt so good pressed against you, warm and firm under the soft flannel.

     “I do have my redeeming qualities,” he grinned.

     _Yeah you do,_ you thought. Dean seemed happy and you were glad of it. He’d been tense the last hour of the drive to the house, which reminded you…

     “Dean, what about the bags? We’re staying here, aren’t we? It seems like no one was expecting to see us…”

     “Of course, you’re staying here,” John seemed to have a knack for suddenly appearing.

     Dean let go of you suddenly, like he’d gotten caught sneaking kisses. _Wish he_ would _kiss me,_ you thought.

     “Dean, grab some champagne glasses,” John instructed and moved into the living room, pulling off the foil top as he walked. “Ellen, what the hell were you doing in my kitchen?”

     John’s voice faded off as he went into the living room were Bobby and Ellen were again seated. Dean had moved to another cupboard and was pulling out plain glasses.

     “Dean, honey, no,” you put your hand on his arm.

     He watched as she put the glasses away, appreciating what the stretch did for her body. She, instead, took out the long, skinny glasses and put them in front of him. All things considered, she was doing just fine with his family, but he was still concerned about his dad. He knew better than to think he’d turned over a new leaf.

     It had been so easy to fall into his loving fiancé role with (Y|N). He had to remind himself that at the end of their week together, it was all  over and to not get used to her being around. There was a job to do and he was going to do it. The plan was working so far, and she wanted to get her own shop going. She had her own incentive to make sure everything played well… but it definitely didn’t suck having her in his corner, or on his arm.

     “Should I get out seven?” she asked.

     “No. Sammy and Jess will be in tomorrow,” he answered. “C’mon, I’m sure they’re dying to tell you embarrassing stories about me.” He grabbed four of the glasses, leaving her the remaining one to carry. From the living room, they heard the telltale ‘pop’ and cheers from Bobby and Ellen.

 

     Not willing to risk eating Ellen’s dinner, John ordered pizza be delivered. They drank the bottle of champagne, gorged on pizza, and finished of the bottle of Jonnie Walker. Everyone was having a nice time, talking and telling stories about Dean and Sam when they were growing up.

     A full stomach, adult drinks, long drive in the car, laughing at their stories, had made you very tired. Dean was sitting on the corner of the sofa, one arm resting on the top of the cushion, the other on the armrest. You were past drowsy and had almost dozed off a couple times, the couch was so comfortable and you were leaning against Dean…

     You put your hand on Dean’s knee to help pull yourself up off the couch.

     “I’m sorry, everyone, it’s been a long day and I can’t keep my eyes open,” you regretted to tell them. It had been an enjoyable evening and you hated for it to end. Dean followed you as you stumbled your way to the stairs while you and Dean said your goodnight’s to everyone.

 

     “There are so many stairssss,” (Y|N) was taking each stair like she was summiting Everest.

     “Keep moving,” he encouraged with a hand on her lower back. “Are you drunk?”

     “No…” she paused to think, “I’m not, but I’m buzzing pretty hard. Suuuuper close, though.”

     He chuckled, “Yeah, okay.”

     At the top of the stairs, he pointed out Sam’s old room but said that Bobby and Ellen would probably stay there for the night. He guided her around to the front of the house where his room was and led her inside, closing the door behind them.

     (Y|N) stood in the middle of the room just looking around. It didn’t look much like it did when he was growing up. His dad had finished renovating the upper floor after he and Sam had moved out for good. When he came back after his mom died, that was when he’d seen the first changes and it just slowly became his dad’s house after that. It looked more like a fancy hotel room than his boyhood home.

     Dean went to the bathroom and reached inside the door to turned on the light. He did a quick check to make sure there were towels and toilet paper.

     “Dude, your room is huge. You could fit two and a half of my room in here. This is amazing,” she was walking around, looking at things. She went to the windows and looked out, “Wow. This is really nice. How many times did you sneak in and out?”

     The room had three large windows that were at the front of the house and overlooked the wraparound porch. It had been so easy to climb down, or up, when he needed to get away.

     “Not as much as you’d think, but enough. Way more than my parents knew about,” he rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish.

     “Looks cold out there,” the light from the front yard showed that it was snowing and blowing hard.

     “Do you ice skate?” he asked looking out the window with her.

     She turned to him with a smirk on her face, “Do you?!”

     “Hey, I asked first,” he countered.

     “I can,” she said, “not well, or graceful, but I can scoot around a rink… mostly. Why?”

     He went back to the bed where he and Bobby had put their bags and unzipped his duffle bag, pulling out his pajamas. (Y|N) went to hers and pulled out a shockingly similar set.

     “Dad likes to have something planned for each day. Tomorrow is skating,” he said undoing the buttons on his flannel.

     “You skate?” she asked again.

     “Not on purpose,” he threw his shirt on the floor.

     “Uh-uh,” she shook her head, “after a year together, no way I let you throw dirty clothes on the floor.”

     He sighed and picked up his shirt and put it in the basket in his closet. It surprised him that it was still there along with some of his things. He pulled out a shoebox and brought it back to the bed.

     “I’m gonna…” he grabbed his kit and pajamas and went to the bathroom.

 

 

     Quickly, you changed out of your clothes and got on your pajamas. Dark blue, green, and black plaid flannel set. You were buttoning your shirt when you heard the water shut off in the bathroom and the door opened again.

     He stepped out holding his clothes and ready for bed. You noticed the smell of mint as you passed by with your toothbrush and paste. You moved as quickly as you could because you were dying to see what was in the box.

     When you were done in the bathroom and went back out, Dean was under the covers and propped up with the pillows looking through the contents of the box. It struck you suddenly about how adorable he was. He only had a small grin on his face, but he looked happy, too. The tension was gone as he looked at his memories.

     Apparently, he’d assumed you’d be sleeping with him. You supposed it didn’t matter much. It was a king-sized bed, after all. Plus, you’d practically been sleeping on him downstairs… Just thinking about it gave you butterflies and a body shudder.

     “Sorry,” Dean noticed your shudder, “Dad likes to keep it cold up here.” He stopped to look up at you then flipped the covers back on your side. “I’ll be a gentleman, I promise.”

     _How disappointing,_ you thought.

     “Better than raging hellfire,” you said. “My grandpa would always keep the house so hot on holidays.”

     You climbed into the bed with Dean and scooted to his side so you could see what he was looking at. He dug through the box showing you the items he’d saved and the stories behind them. While it was great to see what was important to Dean, there were pictures at the bottom of the box that had caught your eye.

      When he quickly tried to skip one, you snatched the stack out of his hand an looked at he picture in all it’s glory. Your mouth dropped open at the sight. The red sweatband and sunglasses would have been enough to catch your attention, but there was more, so much more.

    “I can explain,” he said.

     You fought of a round of giggles and kept your eyes riveted to the picture. You had so many questions.

     “I think you’d better,” you chuckled.

     “The school needed a gym teacher. It was a few years after mom died. I needed to do something.”

     “Is that the uniform the school gave you or did you pick it?” It was so hard not to laugh, you were almost crying.

     “It’s the school uniform,” Dean was less amused.

     “Oh God,” you sighed, “it’s all so tight…”

     “The whistle made me their god,” he was reverent.

     “Look at your cute lil knees!” you took a cleansing breath and look up at the ceiling.

     “You done?” he asked.

     You fanned yourself with the pictures.

     “I think I have a crush on Coach Winchester,” you said, beaming at him.

     “Alright,” he grabbed the pictures from your hand and started putting everything back in the box, “you clearly need to sleep.”

     You turned off your bedside lamp when Dean was putting the box back in the closet and got your pillows situated. Your heart was racing as you looked at the t-shirt stretched across his broad back, causing the wicked pace. You were very much enjoying the thought of him in that uniform, but you were also going to be sleeping next to one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in real life.

     Finally, you were both settled, and Dean had his light off. You couldn’t tell if he was facing your or not, but there was one last thing you had to know.

     “Hey, Dean?” you began.

     A loud sigh came from his side of the bed. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark and you could see his profile.

     “Yeah?” he answered.

     “Do you still have the uniform?”

     You could see him smile and turn his head to you.

     “Maybe. Go to sleep, ya freak.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First full day with the Winchesters. John gets the reader one on one and has a few questions to ask her. The reader meets Sam and Jess. Benny shows up to say hi, too. Dean and Benny have a few things they need to hash out and end up doing it during the annual hockey game.

 

    It was hard for you to sleep. The bed was comfortable enough, but it was so quiet in the house, and it definitely was not your own, familiar, bed. Just when you would be close to finally falling asleep, the wind would gust making the old farm house creak under the strain, starting your cycle over again. Eventually, the storm died down and you were able to get some sleep, but it probably wouldn’t be enough to let you feel human.

    Mercifully, when you woke, Dean was lying on his side facing you, blocking the annoyingly bright light that was streaming in through the windows. The night before, you hadn’t noticed the three smaller windows on the south wall. Six damned windows with nothing but a thin, plain curtain to block the light on the three largest. There wasn’t a thing covering the smaller ones.

    Dean was still sleeping, somehow. His long, dark lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks. The image of Coach Winchester flashed into your mind and what you’d said. You smiled thinking about it and looked at the handsome man lying next to you. _I think I have a crush on Dean,_ you thought.

    Impulsively, you rolled toward him and lightly kissed his cheek. He didn’t stir as you pu8lled away and slipped out of bed. The shock of cold on your bed-warmed body brought you a special kind of hatred for John Winchester. You’d come from northern Minnesota, you hadn’t expected it to be so cold down in Kansas. Consequently, you hadn’t brought a sweater.

    Dean’s duffle was open on the floor and you spotted a cable-knit cardigan stuffed to the side of his bag. Carefully you pulled it out and put it on over your flannel pajama top. An extra layer would be better than going down to the kitchen in just your pajamas.

    Quietly, you opened the bedroom door and slipped out and made your way toward the kitchen. For as late as you all had been up the night before, it surprised you that you could smell coffee and hear the sounds of breakfast preparation coming from the kitchen. You were even more surprised to see John behind the stove.

    “Good mornin’, sunshine,” he said, clearly mocking your surly disposition. “Tough bein’ up this early?”

    “It is when I have a hangover,” you looked at him through squinted eyes. “And I’m not a morning person.”

    “Where’s Dean, he still sleeping?” he asked.

    You nodded. John pulled a pill bottle out of the cupboard over the coffee maker and loudly put the bottle on the island. The pills inside made a terrible noise.

    “Coffee?” he ventured.

    You shook your head, “Water.”

    John had already gotten dishes out for breakfast and took one of the glasses to the sink and filled it for you. While he was doing that, you opened the pill bottle and tapped out three of the pills, hoping that would be enough. John gave you the icy cold water and you downed the pills in a gulp. You wanted to make sure your stomach accepted the new fluid before ingesting more. That Johnnie Walker had been a lot stronger than you had thought it was.

     “Not being a morning person must make work easier. Do you have kids?” he asked.

    You weren’t sure how being a night-owl would make work easier for you. It was too damned early in the morning for mind games, especially since you weren’t in top form.

    “No, no kids. Not even a fur baby,” you answered.

    “How did you and Dean meet?” he asked like you hadn’t already repeated the story at least twice the previous day.

    “Dean needed a tune-up, so he came to my garage,” you felt a little uncomfortable and kept to the basics.

    John was getting food out and ready to be cooked.

    “Do you always date customers?” he asked looking you over.

    You held your glass with both hands and thought about throwing it in his face for what he was implying.

    “No, I broke a personal rule for him,” you said.

    “And now you’re getting married,” he broke an egg into a mixing bowl.

    You left your spot at the island and went to the coffee maker. The cupboard above held the mugs and you got one out, pouring a cup for Dean.

    “I think I’ll go see if he’s up now,” you took the mug and your glass of water and tried to leave the kitchen without further incident. You didn’t have to look to know that John was watching your every move, you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away.

    “Don’t you need cream and sugar?” he called to you.

    “Nope, he takes it black,” you said without stopping. You didn’t want him to see you rattled.

 

    You tucked your water between your body and arm so you could open the bedroom door. The adrenaline coursing through your veins made your hand shake as you reached for the knob. Inside, the sun had warmed the bedroom and Dean was still lying in bed, huddled under a mound of blankets.

    You put your glass and the mug on the nightstand by your side of the bed. The blankets were still flipped down, and you kicked yourself for not flipping them up before you went downstairs. Any heat that had been there from your body was gone. Instead, you carefully eased yourself up onto the bed, sitting close to Dean and so you could see his face. He was lying on his back now and you were 80% sure he was awake though his eyes were closed.

    “Your dad caught me off guard,” you said softly. “I think he’s got it stuck in his head that I’m a stripper.”

    “He’s a real charmer,” his voice was low, and his eyes were still closed. He rolled partially onto his side and opened his eyes a sliver. “What are you doing up already?”

    “Couldn’t sleep. Too quiet. Too bright.”

    “Too weird?” his eyes opened more.

    “I mean…I wasn’t gonna say it, but… a bit,” you admitted, “and you snore.”

    “I do not,” he said, “besides, you’re the one that snores.”

    “Whatever, I barely slept,” you scoffed.

    “You slept fine in Minneapolis,” he said.

    “Touché,” you said, rolling onto your knee to grab the coffee off the nightstand, “I got you this.”

    He slowly sat up to take the mug from her. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed the sweet, sweet aroma of coffee sooner. As he took a drink of the coffee, he wondered if maybe he should have a talk with his dad about (Y|N). Even if she were a stripper, she didn’t deserve harsh treatment, and he didn’t want her feeling uncomfortable.

    “A guy could get used to this,” he said between drinks.

    Dean’s hair was all over the place and he still looked half-asleep. The coffee was doing its work, but slowly. His t-shirt was stretched across the broad expanse of his shoulders, and the light from the window was highlighting the fine hairs on his strong arms. You could get used to mornings like this with Dean, too.

    “What?” Dean noticed you staring at him.

    “You’re cute,” you said bluntly, looking at his bedhead and adorable freckles.

    “Shaddap,” he smiled.

    “No, I’m serious. Don’t women tell you you’re cute?”

    “I think I’m adorable…” he took a drink of the coffee.

    “Dean.”

    “I mean,” he shrugged as if to say, ‘look at me’ but continued with,” Yeah, but they’re not usually still with me in the morning, or my fake fiancé.”

    “I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered,” you said then reached for your water.

    “What about you? Any skeletons I need to know about, other than driving a Tesla,” he shook his head, still in disbelief.

    That comment and reaction made you laugh out loud. You had to think on it a bit, but you were pretty sure you didn’t have any other bombshells to drop on Dean.

    “No, I don’t think so,” you said. “Pretty clean. Goody-two-shoes. I do have a pretty big nest egg saved up. I had roommates for years and saved a lot. Plus, my dad left me a chunk that I invested.”

    “Oh really?” he asked.

    “Yes. And I know what you’re thinking. This is just a way to get to my dream quicker,” you explained. “I’ll still give it my all.”

    “You know about the women I see, what about you? What’s your favorite flavor?”

    It was his turn to put you on the spot and it turned out that maybe you did have a skeleton or two. To keep it a mutually beneficial arrangement, you needed to keep up your end of the deal.

    “I do have a particular weakness for bikers,” you admitted. “Not the weekend-warrior type, the break-limbs if you look at ‘em wrong kind.”

    Dean raised his eyebrows at you, “Really?” he drew the word out.

    “Yeah,” you said, “don’t be judgey. Women have needs, too.”

    “And that’s for violent bikers?” he assumed.

    “There’s the judgey part.”

    “What did you get out of that?”

    “What did you get out of dating strippers?” you shot back.

    “You’re right?” he looked into his mug, “I’m sorry.” He raised a hand in surrender.

    “Just so you know, I was treated like a queen. Besides, it never lasted more than a few months, anyway. Club first, always.”

    A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. Both of you thought about the people you’d chosen to be in your lives, knowing that they would never last. That had been part of the fun, but you were also waiting for the right one to come along.

    “Here’s to us and our bad decisions,” Dean raised his mug.

    You clinked your glass against his mug then you both took a drink. You looked at Dean and marveled at your circumstances. Your personal rule about not dating customers had prevented you from even thinking about dating him. Spending time with him over the last few days made you realize what you had been missing. Not with the customers, but with him specifically, though… he did make it clear he didn’t have time for a personal life outside of this week.

    “Here’s to us making better choices,” you said raising your glass again. Dean took the toast and drank with you.

    “You ready for the rest of the day?” Dean asked.

    “Yeah, I’m a little nervous to meet Sam and Jess, though,” you told him.

    He put his hand on your knee, “Don’t be. You survived my dad, you’ll be fine. I’ll be close if it gets hairy.” He patted your knee. “C’mon. Let’s do this.”

    Before he got out of the bed, he turned to you and said, “Is that my sweater?”

    You laughed, “Wow. Took you long enough.”

 

    By the time you and Dean were ready and heading to the kitchen, Ellen and Bobby were already at the table with two new people you assumed were Sam and Jess. John was behind the stove which had a skillet where he was finishing up pancakes, bacon and hash browns. John, Ellen and Bobby all greeted you and Dean as the two of you entered the kitchen. From behind you, Dean breathed out an audible “whoa” as he realized his brother and fiancé were at the table, too.

     “It’s about time you two showed up. Breakfast is about ready,” John said from behind the stove.

    “Sad when we’re up before you kids,” Bobby teased.

    “Speak for yourself. I coulda stood a little more shuteye,” Ellen countered, grasping her coffee like it was giving her life.

    A very large man pushed back from the table and stood up. You recognized him from the pictures Dean had shown you as his brother, Sam. Dean stepped out from behind you, a smile on his face as Sam wiped his mouth on a napkin and tossed it on his chair.

    “You’re gonna be napping by three, Bobby,” Sam patted the older man’s shoulder as he passed by. He crossed the space to Dean and the two brothers shared a quick hug.

    “I hear I’m not the only Winchester getting married,” Sam said, looking between the two of you.

    Dean blushed slightly, looking bashful, “Yeah, you heard right. Sammy, this is (Y|N), my fiancé.”

    “Hi Sam,” you said, “it’s nice to meet you.”

    The very pretty blonde woman came walking over and you knew she had to be Jess. She looked very well put together for being up as early as they had to have been to arrive for breakfast. You somewhat envied her designer clothes.

    “It’s nice to meet you, too. What a nice surprise,” Sam’s tone was genuine. “This gorgeous creature is _my_ fiancé, Jessica.”

    “Jess,” she said with a smile.

    This sizing up was getting to be a very familiar sight over the last day and Sam and Jess just continued the trend. It made you wonder what John, Bobby, and Ellen had told them in your absence.

    “You two are lawyers, right?” you asked.

    “Didn’t Dean tell you?” Jess asked.

    _Of course, they are_ , you thought. “Yeah, he did. I was wondering what kind.” You were going to need a lawyer to help you get your business started.

    “Do you need a lawyer?” Sam said, looking at you like you were a criminal and you were getting tired of it.

    “Hey,” Dean interrupted just as you were about to set them right, “we can talk shop later. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

    Dean put his hand on your back to move you toward the table. Sam and Jessica went back to their seats at the table. However, your irritation with the Winchesters was rising. Everyone was assuming the worst of you and you spun around on Dean.

    “Honey? A word?” you gave him a look that said it wasn’t optional. He followed you to a spot just outside of the kitchen in the formal dining room.

    “How the hell am I ever going to get in their good graces if they all assume the worst of me?” you were struggling to keep your voice even. “Are you gonna set them straight? They either believe I’m a gold-digger, or don’t want to believe I could be anything else.”

    “I’ll talk to them, I promise,” he said.

    “I hope so. I’m damn good at what I do, and I’ve never needed anyone to pat me on the back for it, but… I need it from you,” you hated letting the emotion get to you. “At least, for this week.”

    “(Y|N),” Dean held your shoulders in his hands and didn’t continue until you looked up at him, “I promise.” He waited for you to give him a nod, “Let’s go eat.”

 

    When breakfast was done and put away, you found yourself sitting in awkward silence with Jess. John had taken the boys outside to help him with some chores and Bobby and Ellen had taken off to go do their part. That left you and Jess in the living room.

    “Tell me about you and Sam. How did you meet? When did you know he was the one? How did he propose?” you asked hoping it would spark conversation. Anything had to be better than the deafening silence.

    Jess told you everything. She said how she spotted the tall, awkward man on campus, struggling to get a building door open. He’d been carrying too many books and a campus map. She’d taken pity on him and got the door for him and showed him where his class was. Jess explained that she had friends that went to Stanford the year before and she had visited.

    “Honestly, after that day, he sent me a dozen pink roses and that was when I knew. Guys just don’t do that anymore, ya know?”

    You nodded. Dean wasn’t a romantic, you could tell, but he was also very intimate.

    “He asked me to marry him at our favorite restaurant the night before Thanksgiving…” she went on to tell you every detail Sam had thought of and how perfect everything had all been. Then she showed you her ring.

    “It was Mary’s,” she said with a smile.

    “And what about you?” she asked. “I gotta say, I didn’t think Dean ever thought about marrying anyone after Laura.”

    You knew Dean had almost gotten married once, but you didn’t think he’d ever mentioned her name. It didn’t matter much though, you just rolled with it.

    “It came as a surprise to me, too,” you said. _If she only knew half of it,_ you thought. “We’d gone shopping, had dinner in our room and he asked me. It was really nice,” you thought back on it and how it felt real, even if it was all for show. “Just the two of us, no distractions.” You leaned forward to show her your ring, “This one was their grandmother’s.”

    “Nostalgic bunch, aren’t they?” Jess noticed.

    “We did alright, huh?” you said.

    Jess suddenly shifted in her seat to face you more direct.

    “Real talk?” she asked.

    “Sure,” you nodded.

    “I know Dean thinks I can be a bit of a social climber and that I don’t care about people, but I do. I would really like for us to be friends. If it doesn’t work, friendly is okay, too. Sam won’t say it, but he’s always looked up to Dean and would really like it if they could spend more time together.”

    “I’d like to be friends, too,” you told her. _What could it hurt?_

    “I gotta know… are you really a mechanic?” she asked.

    You laughed, “I feel like a broken record. I swear, on my life, that is my one, and _only_ , job.”

    “Wow,” she said, sitting back in her seat, “Dean must really be serious. I know you’re engaged and all, but…honestly, you’re the type of woman I thought he would go for.”

    “And what type is that?” you asked without malice.

    “You know, someone not more interested in herself. Someone with a brain and could stand up to… well… _this_.” She spread her hands wide. “Not to mention, handling Dean. He looks very taken with you. I can’t remember seeing him smile that much. Not in a long time.”

         You didn’t know what to say to that. It wasn’t like you could spill your guts and tell her everything that was going on. Not yet, anyway. It was nice to hear though. But was it really for you, or just the version of you that you were presenting to everyone? Rather than addressing it with Jess, you changed the subject.

    “I suppose we should get out there, huh? Looks like shareholders have been arriving for a while.”

    Out the front windows, you could see people walking with their spouses and families. Cars were pulling up and valets were parking the cars away from the house so as not to distract from the festivities. Jess was looking too and threw a furtive glance from the window to you before giving in. The strange look on Jess’ face made you wonder what she saw, but she gave in quickly enough when she spotted Sam.

    Once the two of you got outside, Jess took off to meet up with Sam and left you near the back of the house where an enormous tent had been set up for the skating rink that had been built for the gala’s week-long celebration. You scanned the faces of the revelers looking for Dean.

    “They’re in the barn,” a man was working on finishing touches for the rink. He was wearing a parka that had “The Cage” printed on the back and some other faded writing that you couldn’t quite make out.

    “Excuse me?” you said to him.

    “You must be looking for Dean or John, right?” the man took off his leather gloves and clasped them in one hand.

    “Yeah, how’d you know?”

    He shrugged, “Good guess. Quite the setup, huh?”

    You had to agree. John went all out, and everything looked spectacular. There was the space for the rink, which had skate “rental” inside. You could hear music playing in there. Not to mention, there were kiosks for foods and drinks scattered about as well as photo booths. There was even a marked path that had signs pointing to all the attractions like the path that led to a sledding hill, the one that led to the pond for “the real skating” as Dean had said, and one that read “North Pole.” And every bit of it was decorated to the hilt.

    “This is incredible,” you said. “The kids must be thrilled with the snow that came last night. Are you working?”

    “Yeah, sorry, I’m Adam,” he said.

    “(YN),” you said.

    “I come down from Hell every year to do this,” he explained.

    “Hell?”

    “Hell, Michigan,” he grinned. “It’s the one perk of living there. My boss wants me to tell people he let me out of The Cage to bring Hell to Kansas.”

    You gave him a questioning look.

    “Moved there a few years ago. Boss thinks he’s funny,” Adam rolled his eyes. There was something familiar about him… “Better get back to it,” he continued. “You have a nice time.”

    “Thank you.”

    Finally, you spotted Dean walking out of the barn, just as Adam had guessed. You gave Adam a wave and went off to meet up with Dean.

 

    “What the hell is he doing here?” Dean pulled the wheel chocks from the hayrack cart.

    “Working, just like all of us,” John was calm. It wasn’t the first time Dean made it known that he didn’t like seeing Adam. “He’s got just as much right to be here as any of us.”

    “No, he doesn’t!” Dean was so angry. “He’s not a Winchester. You keep pushing how family is important, but you don’t mean your own family.”

    “Is that what this is about? You think Adam has some claim on your inheritance?”

    “Of course, that’s what you think… this was _Mom’s_ favorite holiday and every time you bring him here, it’s not just a slap in the face to her memory, but it’s also a reminder of why she’s dead!”

    John had often underestimated Dean. His oldest son was more observant and smarter than he gave him credit for. It made him wonder when he’d figured it out.

    Dean had never said it out loud. He’d known for years what had really happened to his mother, but he stayed silent for Sam’s sake. With (Y|N) being along, he couldn’t take his father’s two-faced lies any longer.

    “Are you going to tell Sam?” John wanted to know.

    “What makes you think he doesn’t know?” Dean took a second of pleasure from the look on his dad’s face. “I never said anything, but Sam is no dummy. You just keep pushing the button.”

    “What am I supposed to do, Dean? He’s my kid,” John would do what he thought was right, no matter what Dean had to say.

    “I don’t know, Dad,” Dean swung the chocks with such force, they slammed against the wall behind the cart. “Maybe you could get off your high horse for a while and realize that once you push us away, we’re not coming back.”

    John didn’t have anything else to say and Dean didn’t stick around to hear any more if he did. He stalked out of the barn and back to the house as quick as he could. His eyes scanned the crowd for (Y|N). There were a lot of peoples and families walking around, but he found her easily. A woman like her stood out, it didn’t matter how she dressed, people noticed her. _He_ noticed her.

    As he got closer, he realized who she was talking to and swallowed hard. Thankfully, she spotted him and left behind the interloper. She had no idea who Adam was, and he walked away when he saw Dean coming.

    “Hey! Where’ve you been? Ready to get your skate on?” you asked. You noticed the scowl that was on Dean’s face, “You okay?”

    “I’m ah, okay, just getting the hayrack ready for the tractor. Gave me more trouble than I expected,” he didn’t want to talk about what happened yet. He really didn’t want to skate either, not with everyone in the rink. He would much rather take (Y|N) down to the pond. It was further away and would probably have less people.

    You didn’t buy his story for a second. Dean had told you before that he and his dad often did not agree. Though he’d gone to help his dad, you suspected John had done, or said, something to upset Dean. You knew better than to press the issue, besides, you could always ask him later.

    “Okay, are we doing this, or what?” you asked.

    Dean stuck out his elbow for you and walked you to the back of the property, behind the house, to where the rink had been set up. The food kiosks smelled wonderful. Christmas music was playing. Popcorn was popping. Cotton candy hanging in bags for guests. Ciders. Hot chocolate. Any holiday treat you could think of was there. Dean didn’t slow down as you passed by the trailer that had the loaner skates. Instead, he took you to the furthest end of the rink. There were less people there and you could hear him better.

    Sam and Jess were already on the ice and looked amazing. You’d only just met them, and you already knew that they were the couple that did everything well and you either loved them or hated them. They glided gracefully around the rink and you felt undecided on what category you fell into regarding the couple.

    Dean sat on a small set of bleachers that had been set up spectators. He could see Sam and Jess stop to talk to some employees he recognized from the dealership in town. (Y|N) had his attention though. She was leaning on the barrier, her leggings showing off her assets.

    Feeling his eyes on you, you looked over your shoulder at Dean. He hadn’t looked up from your ass yet.

    “Hey, creeper, come be social,” you said, snapping him out of his daze.

    Dean got up from his spot. Sam and Jess had spotted them and were coming over to chat. He leaned his elbows on the barrier next to (Y|N). You noticed that Dean never seemed to feel the cold. He only had on his usual coat and a scully. You slipped your arm under his and took his hand with your gloved one. Dean said nothing, he just looked at you sideways with a hint of a smile on his features. His fingers wrapped around yours, his thumb stroking the soft material of your glove. It was such a small gesture, but it made you feel like you were on top of the world. You leaned into his shoulder, reminding yourself it was completely natural to feel this way.

    “Hey, you love birds,” Jess said as she and Sam came to a stop near you and Dean. “You two look so cute together, are you going to come skate with us?”

    The plan had been to skate, but he’d seemed to have abandoned that for the moment. You waited for him to answer, unsure if you should. When you realized he didn’t know what to say, you jumped in.

    “I think we’ll mingle out here for a bit, grab some snacks, then go skate. I don’t want everyone to see me fall so much,” you laughed.

    “Oh, I’m sure you’re amazing,” Jess responded.

    “If you guys change your mind,” Sam’s words trailed off, letting you fill in the blank.

    Dean didn’t correct you. Instead, he walked you around the outside of the rink saying hello to people he knew and introducing himself to those he didn’t. When he introduced you, he always referred to you as his fiancé. A lot of the people had similar questions. When you’d made a full lap around the rink, you’d answered the same questions two or three times each. One thing you’d noticed was that everyone was happy that Dean had “found a nice girl” and was “finally settling down.”

    With a little more mingling, Dean led you back to the opening of the rink to where the skates were being loaned out and gave your size to the attendant.

    “Figure skates or hockey?” they asked.

    “Figure skates, please,” you answered.

    “Hockey,” Dean said, as if there were no other option.

    Skates slung over your shoulder, Dean led you to the next kiosk. Dean tried to introduce you to the lady who was running it.

    “Missouri Mosley, this is…”

    “I know who this is. Let me look at you, honey,” she said taking your hand. You felt like she was looking into your soul. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “Cinnamon roll with pecans?”

    Dean rolled his eyes.

    “Oh my God, that’s exactly what I was going to ask for,” you said.

    Missouri let go of your hand to go fill your order.

    Dean called after Missouri, “I’ll have…”

    Missouri raised her hand to stop him from speaking, “If you think I don’t know what you want by now.” She made a clicking sound with her tongue against her teeth.

    Missouri handed you a plate with a fork and the most delicious looking cinnamon roll you had ever seen, still warm and steaming in the cold air. For Dean, she handed him a similar plate, but the roll was drenched in icing.

    “Cinnamon roll, extra icing,” Missouri said, dryly.

    The look of utter joy on Dean’s face was so unrestrained, it warmed you.

    “Now don’t you mess it up with this nice girl, Dean Winchester. This one can give you a run for your money, but not like the others. She’s different and you know it, boy,” she said to Dean. “She’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

    “Don’t do that Jedi mind-crap on me, Missouri,” Dean balked.

    Missouri gave Dean a glare before turning her attention back to you.

    “You go on keeping him in line, sweetheart. He might fuss, but he likes it. Especially from a strong woman like you. Don’t let his stupidity push you away.”

    With a glance at Dean, Missouri rolled her eyes this time and made a motion like she was done with him. When you got your wits back about you, you saw Dean already had a mouthful of cinnamon roll and was giving Missouri’s back a dirty look.

    “I’m not stupid,” he said through his full mouth.

    You couldn’t help but laugh. He had icing and crumbs at the corners of his mouth. You pulled off your glove and used the pad of your thumb to wipe away the icing. Without even thinking, you licked the sweetness off your thumb.

    Dean was a little taken aback by (Y|N). He didn’t want to think that Missouri was right about her, but it was hard to deny that he was experiencing growing feelings for (Y|N).

    “I know sweetie,” you said. “Even if you are derpy sometimes, you make up for it with cute.”

    “Hmm,” he finished his bite. “I’m glad you see it that way.”

    The next booth over had the biggest mugs of hot chocolate you’d ever been given. Everything was on such a grand scale, you couldn’t imagine what the actual gala would be like. Finally, Dean took you down to the pond.

    The pond was bigger than you thought it would be. Bleachers were set up on either side. Lights were strung up all around the outside on poles. There was a small shelter at one edge that had a big window in it which faced the pond. At the other end was another small shelter on skids that you knew was and ice fishing shack. When you got closer, there were nets on the snow by the shelter and that the ice had been prepared for skating.

    Dean took you inside the shelter with the big window and turned on the power. The heater came to life and a small radio hummed on the counter. Dean pulled out the two chairs that were used for the game call.

    “Wow, this is cozy,” you said, taking one of the chairs.

    “Eventually, the heater will blow air slightly warmer than it is now,” Dean started right in on his hot chocolate and roll. “Better eat while it’s still a little warm.”

    One bite of the cinnamon roll and you wanted to go profess your love to Missouri Mosley.

    “Oh my God, this is the best cinnamon roll I have ever had,” you said.

    Dean tapped his finger on your mug, not saying anything, just wanting you to try it.

    After one sip, “I’m never leaving.”

    The drink felt like silk on your tongue. The flavor was full and rich with a hint of a spice you were unfamiliar with. And the cream…

    “Paprika,” he answered your nagging question.

    “Mind blown,” you returned.

    Dean licked his fingers before reaching into his pocket for his phone. Not only did it surprise you that Dean had a phone, but it was also a smart phone. He pushed a few buttons and music started playing.

    You were anxious to get out on the ice, so you didn’t waste time eating your roll. It was too good not to devour. When your plate was clean, you pushed your forward and sat back in your chair. You were so full it was tough to get a breath.

    “Maybe we should skip skating. I think I might go over the weight limit,” you groaned and rubbed your belly.

    Dean chuckled, “Benny was out here resurfacing. If it can hold him, it can hold anyone.”

    “Who is Benny, again? Was he your buddy from…high school?”

    “High school, yeah. We were on the wrestling team. Then he worked with me at the brewery. He’s running the floor now,” Dean explained.

    “He gonna be okay with you running the business?”

    He shrugged, “If he doesn’t like it, that’s on him. We got along well enough when we worked together. Guess we’ll see.”

    You squeezed his arm, “Let’s go skate off the decadence.”

    Dean put his music on the PA, and you went outside to get on your skates. Finally, you were laced up and ready to go. The skates you’d been loaned fit shockingly well. Dean, not having any complaints, carefully followed you to the ice. He seemed to be way more confident on the ice than you. AS part of living so far north in Minnesota, for as long as you had, it was practically required that you skate at least once.  Remembering how your last outing had gone, you moved ever so carefully and were grateful for the toe pick, your only source of traction.

    “I’m gonna warm up, you good?” Dean asked.

    George Thorogood was singing about his rent being late…

    You were holding out your arms for balance and getting used to the feel of the blades under your feet again. It had been a long, long time since you last wore any. Concentrating too hard for words, you gave Dean a thumbs-up and he took off doing hot-laps around the rink.

    _Liar, liar, pants on fire,_ you thought as you saw his blur out the corner of your eye. He was way better than he’d let on. You were moving slowly now, but it could be considered skating, at least. The pond was so far out of the way, you could only hear the music and the sound of your and Dean’s skates on the ice. He was slowing down to match your turtle’s pace.

    “Coming up on your left, sweetheart,” he said.

    Gently, he took your elbow, then moved into place to take your hand, steadying you. It took a few strides to fall into step with him before you both moved smoothly.

    “You made me think you couldn’t skate,” you said evenly.

    “I said I didn’t skate on purpose, not that I couldn’t,” he said helping you turn.

    “Man, of many talents,” you mused.

    He chuckled, deciding to not walk through that particular door just yet.

    “What was Missouri getting at?” you wanted to know. “That was one of the weirdest conversations I’ve been part of.”

    “Oh… um…” he didn’t know how to put it. “She’s a bit of a mystic.”

    “She knew who I was and what I wanted.”

    “People talk,” he reasoned. “Missouri only sells cinnamon rolls.” _About fifteen different kinds, though._

    “Okay,” you could see that point, “but she said I was the one you were waiting for.”

    Dean’s skate must have hit a hidden piece of debris in the ice because he suddenly lost his footing on the ice, stumbling and pulling you down with him. A moment of stunned silence passed between you. Dean grimaced for a second before opening his eyes to see you looking down at him. The only sound was coming from the PA.

            _Baby, you’re all that I want_

_When you’re lyin’ here in my arms_

_I’m findin’ it hard to believe_

_We’re in heaven_

    Your hands clutched Dean’s jacket. His body firm and surprisingly warm under you. Maybe the heat was you… Your face was so close to his. His breath still smelled like hot chocolate and frosting. You could see the fine sprinkling of freckles across his cheeks and nose. It would take just a second to kiss him…

            _And love is all that I need_

_And I found it here in your heart_

_It isn’t too hard to see_

_We’re in heaven_

The music finally made it to your ears. Your eyes searched into his green ones.

    “Is it Bryan Adams?”

    You got your knees up under you and you sat back on his lap.

    “Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” you asked as he sat up under you.

    “I’m fine,” he said somewhat avoiding your gaze.

    You could feel the ice start to seep into your leggings.

    “Guess we better get outta here before we freeze like this,” you suggested, but you didn’t really mean it.

    Dean looked at you with those eyes that you could get lost in forever. You pulled off your gloves, concerned that he’s banged his head on the ice, you cupped one hand on his neck just below his ear. You used your other hand to run your fingers through his hair and to the back of his head, checking for signs of injury or swelling. He let you do as you pleased, watching you the whole time.

    Dean’s hand rested on your thighs, his hands gripping the muscle there as you ran your fingers over his scalp. You didn’t fight him as his hands traveled up your legs and round your hips to pull you closer to him.

    Your heart was keeping a dangerous pace in your chest as you leaned back to look at him. Hands still on his handsome face and in his thick hair, he looked at you the way you were looking at him. Dean’s hands left a trail of electricity as they traveled up your back to finally pull your mouth to his.

    You closed your eyes and bursts of light flashed against your eyes like fireworks. His arms squeezed tightly around you and you held onto his shoulders so you could remember which way was up.

    “No guests on the ice!” a voice boomed over the PA and it wasn’t one you recognized.

    The rude intrusion startled you both, Dean’s head whipping around to put a face to the voice, though he already knew who it was. You were already moving to let Dean get up off the ice when he helped you slide over.

    “This isn’t done, sweetheart,” he said, getting up off the ice.

    _Better not be._

    Dean’s rage was ready to come out in an explosion. The man on the PA was already stalking across the ice to where he and (Y|N) had been before Benny interrupted.

    “What in the hell are you…Dean? Figures,” Benny barked.

    “Just can’t leave anything alone, can you, Benny?” Dean growled back.

    “What the hell does that mean?”

    “You know damn well what I mean. I’m out here with my fiancé, and you gotta come ruin it. You going to try to take her away from me, too?”

    “I am so _tired_ of this shit, Dean. It’s been _fifteen years_ , brother, when are you going to let this shit go?”

    “Let’s settle it once and for all,” Dean looked around at the rink. “Tonight, when we play, winner gets a free slap shot and the loser doesn’t bring it up again.”

    “Are you fucking serious,” Benny was sure Dean has lost his mind.

    “Don’t I look serious?”

    You were watching as this weird interaction played out in front of you. You thought Dean and Benny were friends…

    “Alright…” Benny drawled, “tonight then. Now get off my ice, you arrogant bastard. Ma’am.” Benny nodded at you then walked away.

    “What the hell was that?” you asked Dean.

    When his temper calmed down a little, Dean explained as you went to the shack to get the dishes and his phone.

    “Benny was the reason Laura wouldn’t marry me,” he said.

    “You told me it was mutual.”

    “I thought it was.”

    “So, what happened?”

    “I went on our honeymoon and when I got back, I found out about them. Dad had been working me like a mule and not listening to ideas… I didn’t have time for Laura. It was a good time to go, but not before I told Benny what a piece of shit he was, and he’d never be as good in the brewery as me. It was like he was trying to take over my life. He runs the brewery floor, has my dad’s favor, married my ex…”

    You told yourself that the twist your stomach was doing was the fault of your rich treat and not the stabbing pain of jealousy. It had only been a few days. Your logical mind refused to believe you had feelings for Dean that were more than a crush. That kiss though… that wasn’t lust, that was passion. Your lips could still feel his and you brushed your fingertips over them as you smiled. No, it wasn’t a crush. All you wanted was to kiss him like that again… every day until… forever.

 

    Jess told you that the hockey game was something they did each year. John and Bobby had only just quit playing a few years prior. It was supposed to be a friendly match-up between the brewery and dealerships. Sam captained the brewery and Dean the dealerships.

    “I have to warn you, the game gets intense,” Jess warned. “They play for two hundred dollars and a vacation day for the whole side.”

    “Two hundred split per team isn’t much,” you said.

    You and Jess were sitting on the bleachers you’d seen earlier with Dean. The lights were on now and gave the pond a soft glow in the quickly setting sunlight.

    Jess touched your arm, “No, no. That’s two hundred per employee plus a vacation day, each.”

    _Holy shit._ “And the losers?”

    “Fifty and a half day.”

    It made more sense now. You wondered if what plans Dean had, if any, for the business. He mentioned new brews and changing how production worked, but not much of actual business. Maintaining this level of benefit and showiness would really hurt the bottom line at the end of the year. You could help Dean with managing the business, but after the week was over, you’d be out of Dean’s life again and you wouldn’t be able to help him at all. Maybe you could change his mind.

    You continued to chat with Jess until the game started. The roar of the crowd shocked you. The bleachers on each side were full and people were standing around the edges to watch. Once the game got in full-swing, you realized most players wore minimal padding and no helmets. The lack of protection didn’t lessen the players’ intensity, they were ferocious. Dean and Benny took every chance they got to land a blow on the other.

    It was exciting to watch the game. There was plenty of action and Dean was playing aggressively and it was _hot._ When there was a break between periods, you went to the concession area to get a snack. If everything was half as good as what Missouri had made, you couldn’t possibly go wrong.

    You found a stand that had the best smell coming from it and got in line. Jess had gone to talk to other people she knew leaving you to get food on your own. You didn’t know anyone there and Dean was doing team things… So, when you felt a hand run across the full length of your ass, you didn’t think, you swung your elbow back.

    “Whoa, darlin’, just checking out the goods here,” John indicated the concession menu.

    You didn’t believe him for a second. He continued despite your glare.

    “I checked on a place called “Chuck’s Garage” in Bemidji, couldn’t find one,” his tone not accusatory.

    _Of course, you did,_ you thought.

    “Well, I’m not surprised,” you told him, stepping forward in the line.

    “Why would you lie about where you work, hiding something?”

    It was beyond annoying now.

    “No. Its actual name isn’t “Chuck’s Garage,” I just call it that because I refuse to call it “Heaven on Wheels.” Next time you want to check up on me, google my name or Chuck Shurley. Better yet, just ask me.”

    “I’d ask Dean, but I don’t think he knows you all that well.”

    “He knows me better than almost anyone,” you weren’t lying. You’d told things that even Donna didn’t know. You moved forward with the line again.

    “I know Dean want to run the brewery. And I know he would go to any length to get it, including a ploy to make me think he’s in love,” he kept his voice low so only you could hear. “I don’t want hand over my hard work to a man not in a stable relationship.”

    “Is it really so hard to believe that your son could be in love with me, or I him?” you were incredulous.

    Your blood was boiling. He had a lot of nerve talking to you like that. Maybe he was protecting his son. Maybe he was protecting himself. You couldn’t even be sure that protection was the motivation. You stepped forward and gave your order at the window.

    “There’s something going on here and I’m going to find out what it is,” he said.

    You took your order from the window and turned to him making sure he, and everyone in earshot, heard you loud and clear.

    “You do what you have to do. But I assure you, if you ever touch me in a way less than fatherly again, next time I will not miss,” you stalked off back to your spot in the bleachers wondering how the hell Dean had a dad like that.

    Jess saw you coming, just in time for the next period to start. She noticed your obvious change in demeanor.

    “Are you okay?” she asked. “You only went to get food, what happened?”

    “John,” you said through gritted teeth.

    Jess leaned back, “What did he do?”

    You just shook your head trying to get the rage you were feeling to subside. John deserved a punch in the face, but it helped that you told him off in front of everyone.

    “He accused me of lying, not being in love with Dean and I’m pretty sure he grabbed my ass,” you seethed.

    Jess was shocked by John’s behavior, but not surprised.

    “Sam told me after their mom died, John changed. He didn’t care about anything anymore. He alienated everyone not associated with the businesses. John wasn’t much of a parent either. The only reason Bobby and Ellen stuck around was for the boys. I’m not excusing him, I’m just saying, he wasn’t always like this,” she paused. “Did you deck him?”

    You snorted, “No, but I wish I had.”

    “I’m sorry. Don’t let him get to you. I can tell you and Dean love each other. Whatever else doesn’t matter.” Jess let a few more moments pass before she said, “Would you and Dean want to get a mani/pedi with me and Sam tomorrow?”

    That made you laugh out loud.

    “I’m down, but it might take a little convincing to get Dean to go along,” you said.

    “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” she said with a knowing smile.

 

    The game continued with the same aggression as it had in the first period, though dean and Benny were the only ones actively seeking out the other. By the end of the game, you and Jess had eaten all of your snacks and both teams were exhausted and slightly worse for wear.

    Dean was still with his team and shaking hands with the opposing side. The crowd was filing out of the bleachers to head home with the game being the last event of that day. When most of the people were gone, you got up and stood at the edge of the ice to wait for Dean to come over.

    With skates on, he was so much taller than you, he towered. He was still sweating and breathing hard from the game, but it was getting better already. He slid to a stop in front of you, his skates making a “shh” sound as he stopped.

    “Interesting game,” you said looking up at him. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

    “Yeah, I do. Fair is fair,” he said making eye contact with you. Benny was practicing shots behind him. The brewery had won the game by one goal.

    “Hey,” you pulled his arm to get his attention. “Promise me you’ll let it go after this.”

    Dean just sighed.

    “Fine, be a stubborn ass!” you ranted. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he aimed for your head!”

    One of Benny’s practice shots hit the metal post with a loud clang, and it scared you. You’d heard about people getting a concussion, or worse, from a stray puck at professional games. Dean was going to let Benny take a shot at him, with no padding. The stick cracked loudly with each shot Benny took, sending the puck flying in a blur into the net.

    “Back in a minute,” he said and skated to center ice.

    You weren’t going to watch him get his head caved in, so you started to make your way back up toward the house. In a bit of a snit, you hadn’t paid much attention to who was around.

    “Are you Dean’s fiancé?” a woman asked from the bleachers.

    You nodded, “Who are you?”

    “Laura Lafitte,” she answered.

    For you, it would have been better if she were a hag. Instead, she had a gorgeous olive complexion, complete with dark hair and eyes, her expression not unkind.

    “Am I going to have any problems with you and Dean?” you were blunt. You’d been through enough bullshit for one day and had zero patience for more.

    “No,” she answered right away. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was awful to Dean and I hope he’s over us now.”

    “It’s not about you, princess. He loves _me._ He wants to marry _me._ Dean is upset about the people he loved sneaking around behind his back. He’s pissed that they’re still doing it. He just wants the life that keeps getting taken from him,” you were on a roll, first John, now Laura.

    You looked back at the pond just in time to see Benny at the top of his swing. In a blink, Benny had connected sending the puck rocketing toward Dean.

 

    “Ow.”

    “Shut up.”

    He didn’t like how vigorous (Y|N) was cleaning the cut on his forehead.

    “Hey, I’m the one who took a slapshot to the head,” he defended.

    “You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

    “It only grazed me,” he muttered making a face as she pulled off a piece of dead skin. “Jesus, are you using steel wool?”

    “And who’s fault is it you have this cut, anyway?” she said with a Band-Aid clenched between her teeth. “Don’t you dare say it’s them. This is all you. You’re the one deciding how this all goes.”

    He was sitting on the closed toilet seat lid, the bathroom still warm from his shower. He was pretty beaten up, but no way in hell was he going to tell (Y|N) how much, not with the mood she was in already. She’d insisted on making sure it was his skin that had been damaged and not his “thick skull.”

    During his shower, he’d had a little time to think things over about (Y|N), Laura and Benny. It had been a long time to hold a grudge. He didn’t want Laura. He didn’t even care that Benny had married her and had his old job. He liked where he was, the person he was, and the company he kept. He couldn’t imagine having to spend the last fifteen years with Laura. He just wished he’d asked out (Y|N) when he first saw her.

    “This is the ‘stupid’ Missouri was talking about, isn’t it?” she stuck the Band-Aid to his head with a pat.

    “I saw you take off,” his hands went to the soft fabric at her hips. “I wasn’t sure you were staying.”

    “I didn’t want to see that bear of a man take you out.”

    “Benny’s a teddy bear though,” he pulled her hips and she grudgingly took a small step forward. “But you were there as soon as I opened my eyes.”

    “Just making sure you weren’t dead,” she put her hand on his shoulder.

    Her fingers, gentle now, grazed the bandage, then ran through his hair, coming to a rest on the side, her thumb stroking his cheek bone. He tipped his head slightly, into her touch, her hand warm and steady. It had been a long time since someone cared enough about him to get so mad at him, and that kiss…

    “Look, I know this is all for show…”

    You stepped back from him with a push. You were sure you’d misheard him, but the look on his face said otherwise. _Guess it’s time for a three-peat._

    “Oh, now I get it!” you were angry. “Your ‘stupid’ has layers!”

    Your words hit their mark. Dean’s face matched your anger.

    “What?” he stood.

    “Do you see anyone else in here?” you stretched your arms wide in the small bathroom. “Who am I putting on a show for? I care about you no matter what happens at the end of this.”

    “I don’t want this to end!” he yelled back.

    “Well, neither do I!”

    In one long stride, he closed the space between you, gathered you to his body and finished the kiss he’d started with you out on the pond. His strong arms held you firmly to him. He’d grabbed you with such force, you had to hold onto him. It felt so good to have so little fabric between you. His body was still hot from the shower and he smelled wonderful.

    When you parted, he left you breathless and the light hurt when you opened your eyes. Dean reached for the switch and flipped off the light, not letting go his hold of you.

    “So, are we doing this for real?” he asked.

    “Dean, every moment I’ve had with you has been real. I want you in every meaning of the phrase,” you said.

    “I want you, too,” he said, the lust making his voice sound deeper. “And not just…” he groaned softly as you shifted your hips against him, “…oh hell, you know what I mean.”

    He surprised you by sweeping you up into his arms and carrying you to his bed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and the reader get their nails done. Old issues and new ones get discussed whether they like it or not. Reader goes to look for Dean and they have a quiet moment to talk.

          This wasn’t part of your arrangement, one hell of a benefit, but not what was meant by your mutually beneficial arrangement. You were there to do a job, get your money, and go home to make your dream job a reality. Dean was great, more than great, but was it a good idea to start something with a guy who, more than once, said he didn’t have time for a girlfriend? You’d pinched pennies for years to make your dream come true. Could you manage your dream and have Dean, too?

           And what about Dean? You knew he liked you, that was clear, but would he still want you after the job was over? Sure, he’d said so, but you’d heard promises before. He said he didn’t want it to end, but was it just talk? Experience had taught you that men would say anything to get in your pants, then ditch you as soon as they got what they wanted. Dean didn’t seem like the others, though, you’d been wrong before.

           Behind you, his body was warm and firm with his arm over your side, but not clutching you. His breath was steady and even on your shoulder. You knew you should give him a chance. He didn’t treat you like the others had. He didn’t take what he wanted, he gave you what you needed and he was really, really good at it…

           You knew what you wanted, you just hoped he did, too. Burrowing back into him, he stirred at your movement and you pulled his hand up by your chest. He pulled you more into his body and buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply of your scent.

           “What time is it?” his voice was muffled by your neck.

           “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” you said softly.

           “Good,” he nuzzled in, “we don’t have anything going on today, let’s stay in bed.”

           Staying in bed with Dean would have been your choice over anything else, if you hadn’t told Jess you would go with her and Sam. For a few more, precious minutes, you enjoyed the feel of him wrapped around your body. Telling him meant possibly breaking that connection.

           As soon as you said, “About that…,” Dean’s body tensed, and he shifted slightly backward.

           “What?”

           “I was talking with Jess yesterday…”

           “Jess? What did the ice princess say?”

           “She invited us to get mani/pedis with her and Sam,” you told him, holding his arm around you.

           “Do I look like some kind of male model to you?” he scoffed at such an outrageous notion.

           You smirked at his half-hearted outrage and rolled your body so you could look at him. Propping yourself up on an elbow, you looked down at his sleepy face. He had a three-day growth of stubble on his face and you thought it actually made him better looking. You drew your finger along the line of his jaw feeling the rasp as it moved toward his chin. You smiled thinking of the places on your body that were still tender from him…

           “I don’t know about that, but I’d take you on any day of the week and twice on Sunday,” you closed the small space between you to kiss him.

           He reached for her again, not seeming to get enough. Her lips were so soft and still so eager for him. He hoped she always felt that way because he could devour her over and over. The night before, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Ever since he started going to the garage, she’d caught his eye. He told himself to stay away, reasoning that he didn’t have time, but a hot chick who knew more about cars than him? It was like asking fire not to burn. He should have just asked her out right away.

           “Don’t try to change the subject,” she continued. Her voice said she was annoyed, but her face was still soft and warm.

           “No way am I letting some person touch my feet and pretty them up. They’re feet, not… well, I don’t know but it’s just not happening.”

           “I double dare you,” her nail traced the tattoo on his chest.

           “I’m not painting my nails. I’d never hear the end of it at the brewery,” he said.

           (Y|N) was half lying on his chest, looking at him with those sultry (Y|EC) eyes of hers.

           “Might be kinda hot if you did,” she kissed the spot just under his ear, giving him goosebumps despite the heat of their bodies. “All those bad-ass action stars you love all get manicures… And you and Sam can have guy time. Talk shit out. I double-dog dare you.”

           It was getting hard, _difficult,_ to concentrate with her naked body on his and kissing him the way she was. He needed to go to a calm place before he lost control and agreed to something he didn’t want to do.

           “Guy-time is not two dudes getting their nails done,” he moaned as she made her way to his mouth. Her tongue teasing at his.

           “You two need to talk,” she said softly, nibbling at his lip, “clear the air. I triple-dog dare you.”

           “You skipped the triple dare,” he was losing the battle.

           “I really want to get my nails done,” she said playfully.

           He held her leg over his hip and rolled with her onto her back. Her breath was hot on his ear as she planted her foot and adjusted her hips under him. _She has to know what she’s doing to me, right?_

           “Alright, fine, but I want to see you at the range in overalls,” it was his turn to kiss in her neck. He was rewarded with her fingers raking through his hair and down his back. The last bit of his restraint was being tested. (Y|N) was writhing under him, responding to his every touch.

           “Anything… God… anything,” her voice hushed as she kissed him.

           “You can call me Dean,” he teased as he entered her body.

           This time, when you woke up, you and Dean were a tangle of limbs and bedding.

            ** _Thump thump thump_**

           There was no energy left to move. Dean and you had made love four times and you were 80% sure you couldn’t get out of bed if the house were on fire.

            ** _Thump thump thump_**

Dean was lying in a position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, his leg slung over yours. You still felt tired and couldn’t figure out why you woke up.

            ** _THUMP THUMP THUMP_**

“Hey, you guys decent in there?”

           The voice was deep and slightly amused, it had to be Sam. Neither of you were anywhere close to being decent and the bedding was a twisted mess between you. You gave Dean a smack on his shoulder to wake him up.

           “Dean!” you whisper yelled.

           “Uuuuhhnnn,” he groaned.

           “Wake up!”

           “Screw consciousness, that’s what I say,” he mumbled and shifted his position next to you.

           “No, damnit, wake up! Sam is at the door and I can’t move,” you urged.

           Dean sighed heavily as the knocking returned. With a loud groan, Dean got out of bed and you were graced by the sight of his naked form walking across the room. For one horrifying second, you thought he was going to the bedroom door bare-ass naked. You enjoyed the view, but you doubted his brother would. As he got closer, Dean veered off to the closet to throw on a robe.

           “Dean?” Sam’s voice asked through the door.

           “Hold on, Sammy,” answered Dean.

           “Good, you’re alive,” Sam said, his voice lower.

           Dean gave you a quick glance as you finally got untangled and covered up to your chin. A devilish grin crossed his features as he reached for the door handle.

           “Hey Sam, what’s the rush,” Dean said after opening the door. _Interrupting quality time with my lady._

           “Jess said you two might be going with us to the salon?”

           Dean’s gut reaction was to tell Sam ‘no’, but he had made a deal with (Y|N). He would do the nail thing just to see her in the overalls, and nothing else.

           “I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” he said under his breath. “Yeah, super excited about it, too.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah, why not?”

           “OK, cool. Can you be ready in an hour? We were thinking brunch first,” Sam wanted to know.

           Dean looked over at you for confirmation… or, was it accusation? You nodded and your stomach gave a grateful rumble.

           “Sure thing,” Dean said and closed the door when Sam left.

           Two and a half hours later, you and Dean were full from brunch and Sam was pulling up to the salon. You were in the back seat with Dean. When you looked over at Dean, you thought he seemed uncomfortable and not just from a full stomach.

           “I feel weird,” he said.

           “It’s your fault for sampling everything on the buffet,” you reminded with a grin.

           He looked up at the sign for the salon, “Everyone at brunch was staring.”

           You knew it was because of all the food he ate, plus the bandaged forehead that contributed to the staring. Not to mention, the sight of both Winchester sons in the same place was something to behold. Both brothers were quite tall and very handsome. It didn’t help that people were trying to get a look at you, too. Word spreads quickly in small towns and you could feel their eyes on you just as much as they were on Dean and Sam.

           “They were probably looking at both of us. Probably wondering who would willingly be seen with you in public,” you teased.

           Sam put the vehicle in park and the four of you got out of the car to go inside for your appointment. As soon as you both stepped inside, you could feel Dean getting ready to bolt.

           “Do I have to do this,” he whispered to you.

           “Yes. Suck it up, buttercup,” you answered.

           “You don’t have to go to the range with me,” he’d gone into full panic-mode now.

           Sam and Jess were at the counter talking to the clerk about what they needed. Jess had pulled a few strings to get you all in and you were not about to pass on the opportunity. Turning to him, you slipped your arms inside his unzipped jacket and up his back, pressing yourself into him.

           “I’d go to the range with you anyway. This isn’t just some girly thing to do with Jess. It’s time for me to get to know them and for you to talk with Sam,” you kissed his chin and smiled at the worried look on his face that was slowly resolving to his fate. “They massage your legs and hands, too. Arnold Schwarzenegger does it.”

           Dean saw a water tank with small fish swimming inside.

           “What the hell is that?”

           “You put your feet in, and the little fish eat your dead skin,” you explained.

           “Oh, hell no, those little piranhas aren’t touching me!”

           “Okay, tough guy, no piranhas,” you laughed. “You gonna get color on your nails? They have black.”

           “Don’t push it,” he said.

           Jess spoke from behind you, “C’mon, (Y|N). We’ll get our toes done first. These two can get their hands done.”

           Dean spoke softly into your ear, “Careful,” then placed a kiss on your temple.

           You thought he was being a little dramatic, but you nodded anyway and left him to go with Jess.

           “I thought you and I could get to know each other and let those two _talk_ ,” she said like you knew what she meant. “How was skating? Anything interesting, other than macho man Dean, happen?”

           So much had happened yesterday, it was hard to pick out one thing to start.

           “Missouri Mosley,” you said.

           “Did she _tell you something profound_?” Jess half-mocked.

           “I don’t know if ‘profound’ is the word, but she did say Dean was waiting for me,” you said, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

           Jess tipped her head and made a face that agreed with Missouri.

           “I can’t say if you’re the one who Dean was waiting for, but that’s tough to argue,” Jess admitted.

           “How so?”

           “He really hasn’t been serious with anyone since I’ve known him. How did you catch his eye? He’s always been so adamant that his job was more important,” Jess was curious.

           “I have no idea,” you admitted. “I always thought he was good-looking, seemed like a decent guy from what I saw of him… Customers always hit on me, but not him. I broke a personal rule for him, too.”

           “Don’t date clients?”

           You nodded.

           “Maybe you were waiting for him, too,” she suggested.

           It hadn’t occurred to you that maybe you _were_ waiting for him. You hadn’t been lonely, by any means, but they’d mostly been casual.

           “Was it Laura?” you asked. “His last serious one?”

           Jess nodded, “As far as I know, yes.”

           Dean being so mad at Benny made a lot more sense. It was almost like Benny had gotten the life Dean should have been living.

           “She’s awful though!” you observed.

           Jess snorted, “I like you!” She giggled a little more, then, “I think things worked out for the best whit that whole situation. Woman thinks she is God’s gift…”

           “So, what does that mean for Benny when John retires? It seems like Benny would be the next logical step,” you wondered.

           “(Y|N),” Jess turned her head to look at you full on, “Winchesters do _not_ follow logic. Things are a bit sideways considering Adam, too.”

           “Adam? The kid from the ice rink place? What does he have to do with anything?”

           Jess shifted in her seat, “Jesus, I thought he told you…”

           “Told me what?”

           “I’m surprised, Dean,” Sam said, sitting down. “I never thought you’d do this.”

           “(Y|N) can be very persuasive,” he admitted.

           “I like her. She seems like a good match for you.”

           “Thanks, Sam. That actually means a lot.”

           “Look, Dean, not that it isn’t great to see you, but… what are you doing here? I thought you were done with Dad’s yearly spectacle.”

           Sam wasn’t wrong, but Dean didn’t really want to get into an argument in public. It was already bad enough being back, but also, everyone in town seemed to know who they were. John Winchester and his businesses employed a lot of people.

           “Want to make sure the ol’ man knows I’m still alive,” Dean retorted.

           “Dad knows you’re alive. He just hyper-focused on me after mom died,” Sam was trying to make him feel better.

           “Yeah, I’m sure he felt guilty,” Dean grumbled. “Don’t you think it’s messed up that Dad keeps bringing him here?

           “Bringing who here? What do you mean?”

           “C’mon, Sam! Mom would still be here if Dad hadn’t messed around. Now we’ve got this… this… constant reminder of what happened. It’s like he’s trying to push us away and what about the business? Is Dad going to just give it to him?”

           “Dean, why do you even care about the business? If I remember right, you couldn’t wait to leave.”

           “Of course, that’s how you remember it. You always were the golden child.”

           “Come again?” Sam didn’t know what Dean was thinking, he remembered his childhood quite differently. “Dad did nothing but push me to get good grades and join every team and activity that came along. I had no time for myself or to have friends.”

           “Poor you. Who left college to come back and pick up the pieces? He was a mess for years. He forgets who it was working like a pack horse calling all the shots. Then I would go home, make sure he didn’t drink himself to death and help you with your homework. I barely slept for three years. I will not just sit and watch him hand it off to his bastard.”

           Sam’s eyes were wide as he quickly looked at the nail techs. They’d stopped working to watch the exchange. When they noticed, they jumped back to work again.

           “Maybe we should talk about this back at the house?”

           “Why?! What difference does it make? Dad’s burned every bridge already. No one is going to build one for him. Everyone knows he’s an asshole,” it felt good to get it out. “It takes a special kind of prick to bring the reason your wife is dead to the party, and at her favorite holiday. She should be alive and it’s his fault she’s not. And why do you care what happens to the business, you just want to sell it first chance you get.”

           His words hit their mark. Sam didn’t know Dean had found out about that particular option that he’d been considering.

           “How did you…” Sam sputtered.

           “Do you really think you can shop the business around and not have people check on it? I thought you were the smart one?”

           “Jess and I talked about it,” Sam cleared his throat, “we were just putting feelers out there. The plan is to keep it all running and everyone still employed.” He looked at the nail techs and smiled.

           Dean rolled his eyes. Sam was always the diplomat. He said he didn’t have political aspirations, but the sale of the business would sure fund a lot of campaigning. Conversation after that was terse at best. It had been good to air it out, but the potential repercussions after his outburst weighed on him. Telling Sam was one thing, bringing it up with his dad was another. It was a discussion that needed to happen, it was just a matter of when.

           Not forgetting about the gala and your dress, you chose an emerald green color for your nails and gold highlights. Tasteful and elegant. Of course, you’d heard what was said when Dean was getting his done, the whole salon had. The parts you hadn’t caught, Jess filled you in. Adam seemed like a nice kid who was getting a raw deal. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to try in spite of the resistance. John, however, just seemed all the more scummy for it. It wouldn’t have surprised you, at all, if he were, indeed, deliberately trying to hurt his older sons. There had to be a better way.

           You and Jess were finished first and Sam was almost done. Dean, however, was not. Seeing the empty chair between the two brothers, you took the space for yourself. You put your hand on top of his newly manicured hand, no polish.

           “You’re doing great, honey. Remember to breathe,” you teased.

           “Very funny,” he said through gritted teeth.

           You rubbed your thumb between the spaces in the bones of his hand.

           “No polish, I see. Kinda disappointed, not gonna lie,” you really didn’t care, you were just trying to distract him.

           “I don’t need that crap. This is enough,” he said.

           The technician had taken her time to do a good job. It did make you wonder if it was to get more juicy gossip, or if Dean’s nails were just that much of a mess. Dean had aired a lot of dirty laundry during the mani portion. But now, Dean had a perfect pedi, even if he didn’t have polish. The tech gave him the final rubdown and the okay to go.

           “Very pretty, babe,” you patted his hand and got ready to leave the salon.

           Held hostage in the back seat of Sam’s car, Sam and Jess took you on a tour around Lawrence before heading back to Lebanon. You tried to politely decline, but they insisted. By the time you got back to Lebanon, the effects of the night before were catching up with you and you were practically sleeping on Dean.

                Dean managed to get (Y|N) out of the car and up the stairs to his room. He almost felt bad about keeping her up all night, but she had woken him up twice, too. She climbed on top of the comforter and almost went back to sleep immediately. He pulled a heavy blanket from the chest at the foot of the bed and covered her with it. She looked like a worn-out angel lying in his bed. Bending down, he placed a light kiss on her forehead, thinking she was already napping.

“Where are you going?” She asked drowsily, not opening her eyes.

“Need to go have a talk with Dad,” he said, truthfully.

            “Don’t kill him, just hurt him real bad,” she said.

            That caught him off guard.

            “Are you even awake,” he asked.

            “Mmhmm. Still your dad… and a felony,” she said.

            He snickered at her comment.

“No promises.”

He left the room as quietly as he could and headed for the stairs. He just hoped that she wouldn’t hear what was about to go down. Winchester “talks” tended to get loud. What he hadn’t expected was to see his father at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him.

“We need to talk, son,” John said.

When Dean made the turn at the bottom landing, he could see that the room held Bobby, Ellen, Sam, and Jess. He hadn’t seen them before because he’d been so focused on his dad.

“What’s going on here? Is this an intervention or something?”

“We need to talk to you about this ‘relationship’ you have with (Y|N),” John elaborated.

“‘We’ huh?” He looked around at the people in the room. Jess was the only one who looked like she would rather be doing anything else. Feeling a little bit like he was backed into a corner, he went on, “What do you think ‘we’ all need to say about the woman I’m going to marry?”

“How about you come sit down so we can say our piece,” Ellen tried to persuade him.

He’d lost control of the situation before it even began. If he’d had hackles, they’d be raised.

“Sure, why the hell not,” he took the open chair near the door. If things went bad and he needed to cool off, the door was just a few steps away. “Who wants to go first? I’m sure it’s all going to be just aces.”

John rolled his eyes and moved into a spot near the center of the room. Dean eyed Bobby sitting to his left. At least Bobby had the decency to look guilty.

           “Dean,” John began, “we all know she’s not really your girlfriend.” John raised his hand to stop his son from speaking. “Women like her don’t just magically find a guy like you and settle down.”

“For the hundredth time, she is not a stripper or a prostitute. Her best friend told me she hadn’t dated anyone seriously for years before me. And she didn’t find me, I found her. I asked HER out. And I’m damn lucky she said yes. Jesus. A simple Google search will tell you who she is, but I suppose you would still think that she was a prostitute,” Dean was getting close to losing his temper. “What else do we need to ‘talk’ about?”

“How about the first morning you two were here? She came down the stairs and into the kitchen where I was cooking breakfast for my family. She walks in giving me ‘the look.’” He waited for Dean’s reaction. All he got was his son’s eyes snapping over to his. “Yeah, you know the one. Thought she was just appreciating where the good looks were coming from, then she just kept on it. She couldn’t even answer simple questions about her own fiancé.”

Dean couldn’t roll his eyes any harder, “You think you know everything. What did you ask her?”

“How you take your coffee.”

“And you think she answered wrong,” it wasn’t a question. (Y|N) and he had talked about everything. It had been so easy to talk to her. And whatever she may not have known the answer to, she was crazy intuitive and could practically guess what he was thinking.

“I asked her if she wanted to take cream and sugar and she said no.”

“I take it black when I have a hangover. Why are you so dead set on dragging her down? Why can’t you just accept it? I’m marrying her and that’s the end of the story.”

“How does the girl take her coffee,” Bobby asked.

Dean had a moment of panic. He didn’t remember talking about that with her. If they had, he’d forgotten what she had said. He just hoped that his fear didn’t show on his face.

“She doesn’t like coffee,” he said victoriously when it suddenly came to him. She always had a soda.

           “And it has nothing to do with me and Jess getting engaged? I know you want the business and Dad has certain requirements,” Sam said cautiously.

           “She’s just like the rest of them, after his money. So easily bought off,” John slipped.

           John’s words had brought the room to dead silence. The only sound made was the rustle of fabric as Dean got up from his chair and closed the space between he and his father.

           “Come again?” Dean eyed John, the sound of steel in his voice.

           “You know exactly what I mean. Those women you would see… strippers and gold diggers. All it took was a simple phone call for most of them.” John couldn’t believe Dean had never seen those women for what they were. “I did you a favor and got rid of them before they took you for everything you had.”

           “You had NO RIGHT to do that!” Dean’s blood was boiling.

           “Tell me, Dean, how much has (Y|N) gotten out of you?”

           “Always trying to run my life… Good. I’m glad you paid them off, but it was a waste of money. None of them were anything more than a good time. It’s funny you get so concerned about the type of women I spend time with when you bring your bastard son down here every Christmas parading him around. What do you get out of that? Are you showing him what could be his, or is it some sick twist about what he can’t have?”

           “John, don’t you think you’re being a little hard on the boy?” Bobby said from his space on the couch.

           “Stay out of it, Bobby, he’s MY son,” John growled.

           “Then ACT like it!” Bobby shot back.

           Bobby had already risen from his seat and Ellen followed, ready to back him up if needed. Deciding they’d had enough of the “talk,” they made their way into the kitchen.

Sam moved to the edge of his seat to listen. Dean had always been the more hesitant of the two of them to fight with their father. It had been a long time since they’d aired out their issues and he wanted to make sure he heard everything his brother had to say.

“This isn’t about me or Adam. This is about the farce you and that girl have been running the moment you came here,” John continued, completely disregarding Bobby. “For the record, Adam is my son, as you so delicately pointed out. I don’t need to have a motive to invite him here.”

“No, Dad. It is all about you. You make us feel like we have to compete for your love and attention, and you’ve treated Benny more like a son than me. He got my old job and even married Laura, just like you wanted me to do.” Dean let himself calm down and think if he’d left anything out. “You know what? I don’t give a shit anymore. Give it to whoever you want.”

“Maybe if you didn’t make such epic bad decisions, you wouldn’t be in this mess right now,” John shot back.

“ _My_ life is a mess? Let’s talk about your bad decisions, Dad. You want to tell Sam why our mother is dead?” Dean barely waited for John to answer and when he didn’t, Dean continued, “Sam, Mom found out that Dad had been screwing around on her. Not just with Adam’s mother, but other women, too. All those out of town trips… Nancy Mulligan was the one that caught his eye, though. Mom found out about Adam, and all of the other women, the same night she died. Got in the car and tore off, lost control and wrecked. I may make bad decisions in my personal life, but (Y|N) isn’t one of them and I sure as hell never got anyone killed over one.”

It happened quickly after that. John didn’t have far to reach to throw the first punch. Dean saw it coming and dodged it, throwing a right cross into John’s ribs. Jess had slipped out of the way, not wanting to get caught in the middle. She was glad that Dean finally gotten it off his chest, but she hated how it had happened…

           For the last few days, Dean had practically been attached to your hip. At first, you thought he was doing it to protect you or make you feel comfortable around his family. Now that dinner was almost ready and he’d been absent from for you for over an hour, you missed the comfort of his warm, solid presence next to you.

           When you followed your nose to the kitchen and Dean wasn’t there, you got worried. Jess and Sam were there having a hot toddy with Ellen and Bobby. Sam looked a little guilty and Jess could barely make eye contact.

           “What’s going on? Where’s Dean?” you wanted to know.

           Sam’s free hand patted the top of the hand holding the toddy.

           “He’s probably out in the barn. He likes to bang the dents out of wrecks in there… after an argument with Dad.” Sam cleared his throat and furtively glanced at you.

           Jess didn’t say anything to you, she just handed you the thermos. She had an apologetic look on her face. Worried even more, you slipped on your boots and pulled on Dean’s hoodie that was hanging on a peg by the back door. Making sure you had the thermos; you went outside in search of your fiancé.

           Even if you didn’t know where it was, you would have been able to find it easily. The unmistakable sound of metal on metal was mixed in with the blaring sound of Motorhead. It sounded more like Dean was putting dents in than taking them out. Rubber mallets sounded different…

           As you got closer, the big door was open wide enough to let a car pass through. A light, peaceful snow was falling now that it was almost dark, and in contrast to the clanging coming from the barn. The clanging suddenly stopped, followed by a loud grunt.

           Walking into a big wooden barn, you’d expected to see combines, tractors, and various other farm implements. It wasn’t that kind of barn. Instead, cars lined each side from the front all the way to the back. In some places, other cars were blocked in by the ones in front. You assumed the nicer cars were the ones that had covers on them as you easily spotted the unmistakable shape of a ’68 Corvette Stingray.

           About halfway down the line, one car was uncovered, the cover piled on the barn floor. The loud music was coming from inside the car where Dean sat with the door open.

           His hands were numb from beating the rusted old hood that was hanging on the wall. He was still angry but destroying the hood wouldn’t fix that. He swung the crowbar as hard as he could into one of the support beams, burying the teeth in the post.

           There weren’t many lights inside the barn and the ones that were, were under the loft. When he first saw her, he thought maybe it was Jess coming to tell him (Y|N) heard everything and was leaving, making him feel even worse.

           She leaned down by the front tire then came around by the open door and stood in the opening.

           “Big sound coming from the old girl,” it was (Y|N).

           She leaned into the car, putting her hand on the steering wheel for balance. Her other hand was reaching for the radio and she changed it to a Christmas station. When he tried to change it back, (Y|N) slapped his hand away.

           “Don’t you dare,” she said.

           Somehow, when she slipped back out of the car, she’d grabbed his wrist and was pulling him out of the car with her.

           “C’mon. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but you do have to dance with me,” she ordered.

           With no fight left in him, he found himself getting out of the car for her. “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” was playing.

           “Is that a ’55 Packard Caribbean?” she asked.

           “You really know your cars,” he conceded.

           “She’s a beauty.”

           “Drove it all through high school,” he felt like he was in a fog. “Are you just stealing all of my clothes now?”

           “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

           She pulled him to the empty space in the center of the barn, the final strains from Brenda Lee reaching them as they stopped.

           “Am I ever gonna get it back?” he looked down at you, his expression still irritated.

           You patted your sides and Dean’s scent wafted up through the neck hole. A hint of aftershave and hops.

           “No, I think it’s mine now,” you smiled up at him. You noticed he had a new bruise on his cheek but didn’t ask him about it. He would tell you if he wanted you to know.

           “I don’t dance, sweetheart,” he grumbled, but he still stood there letting you touch his battered face and hands.

           “You also don’t do Christmas, but here we are,” you teased. “Jingle Bell Rock” began. “You can’t be mad when you dance to Christmas music. Just move your body.”

           You held his hand and used him as a prop to dance to the song. You were doing twirls and having a grand ol’ time. It didn’t matter to you how goofy you were, Dean needed to get out of his head for his own sake. As you danced, you sung along to the song, loudly and out of tune.

           Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” was next. Dean finally pulled you close, surprising you. You put your hand on his arm and he slowly moved you to the beat of the music. It was nice to be in his arms again. The anger was gone from his handsome features, replaced by sadness. He could barely look at you. You moved closer so your body pressed to his, your arms going up around his shoulders. Bing’s smooth voice was making you feel good, your hand absently stroking the back of Dean’s neck.

           “You know, you _can_ tell me what happened, right?” your voice was gentle.

           With the song ending, so did the swaying. Dean was looking outside through the open barn door and “Let it Snow” began playing on the Packard’s radio.

           “I don’t think Dad is going to hand over the business to me,” he said. The agony in his voice was killing you. His head dropped to the side of yours, his skin was cold against your temple.

           “We knew that it could end this way,” you said softly, your hand holding his head.

           “But if I don’t get it, it’s not just me that’s losing,” his voice was barely more than a whisper.

           “I’m here, Dean. I don’t need the earrings. You can have them back, use them to start your own place. I just want you,” you said. “No matter what, I’m here, and I have your back.”

           “I’m sorry about everything that’s happened,” he moved to look at you, “but I’m glad you’re here.”

          His eyes seemed to stare deep into your soul, and you knew you were head over heels in love with him. His strong arms enveloped you. His eyes closing as he leaned in to kiss you.

          Dean pulled away first, but not very far. He didn’t want her to run away. It was irrational, but real, he wanted her close… and she was warm.

          Her eyes still closed, she said, “Wow.” Taking a moment to come back to herself, she continued, “If I had known that’s how you felt, I would have kissed you right away.”

          He couldn’t help himself, he kissed her again. Goosebumps raised on his skin. Either he was cold, or he was in love. Not that he knew what it meant to be in love. All he knew is he didn’t want to lose (Y|N).

          “What’s in the thermos,” he asked.

         (Y|N) looked like she’d forgotten she’d even carried it in.

          “Jess gave it to me. I assume it has hot toddy in it,” she thought a moment, “Warm toddy. We could have it before dinner?”

          “Yeah, but let’s get in the car,” he suggested.

          “Are you cold in your multiple layers?”

          “I can take my hoodie back,” he said walking with you to the car.

          “You could _try,_ ” you smiled.

          “Hmm,” he opened the car door for you. “Don’t tempt me.”

          He closed the door gently on the old Packard once you were inside. You watched as Dean went around the front of the car, his fingers splayed as the grazed the hood. A hint of a smile finally touched his face as he leaned down to grab the thermos from where you’d left it and got in the car with you. You took the thermos from him and he reached for the key still in the ignition.

          “Let’s see if Garth has been taking care of her,” he said and turned the key.

          Dean turned his head toward you giving you a look like the car might explode. Instead, the car gave a small shudder and rumbled to life. Dean’s face lit up.

          “Atta boy, Garth,” he said with a smile of appreciation for his friend and for his old car. He reached for the heat controls and set them to max.

          “Care for a tour of the grounds, m’lady?” he said in his best snooty voice.

          “I would like that a lot,” you moved closer.

          When you left the house, you hadn’t thought to grab an extra cup for Dean. While you were sure he had no qualms about drinking right from the container, you thought it might be better to share the cup.

          The heat was already beginning to work in the car as you slid to the middle of the split-back bench seat. Dean gave you a sideways glance, a funny little look on his face, eyebrow up like he was waiting for you to say something. The moment passed and Dean put the car in gear. He eased the car out of its parking space, his foot on the brake. Even though you weren’t driving, you could feel the power ready to be unleashed.

          “Man, she really wants to go, doesn’t she?” you asked.

          The leather upholstery was soft and smooth under your hand, “They just don’t make cars this beautiful anymore. Not ones Joe Schmoe can buy, anyway.” The leather was a cream color and had black and turquoise trim to match the body colors.

          Dean eased the car to a stop just outside the barn. The snow was falling gently on the car and you could just barely hear it hitting the canvas convertible top.

          “I almost wish I could take her with me,” he said, “but no extra parking in my building.”

          You had plenty of space at your place, but with Chuck’s ultimatum, you didn’t know if you’d have a job in 2 weeks. Even if things didn’t work out with you and Dean, you still couldn’t decide if you wanted to go back to work with Chuck. The earrings he’d bought you could be returned or sold, but if it didn’t work out, you really didn’t want them…

          “She’s a beauty,” you told him.

          “Alright,” he said, “down to the end of the land and back, I’m starving.”

          You already unscrewed the mug and were working on the stopper. A waft of toddy steam hit your nose; the liquid still hot as you poured. Jess didn’t put much in the thermos, only enough to fill the mug.

          “Here,” you held out the mug for Dean, “this’ll warm you up.”

          He took the mug from you and took a few drinks from it. The snow had piled up on the windshield and he reached to turn on the wipers.

          “Don’t hog it. Sip, sip, pass,” you wanted a drink, too.

         Dean smirked and passed you the mug. Handing if off to you, he put the car in gear and rode the brake, even in first gear. Dean said he was only going to the end of the lane, but he took you on a small tour of the farm. The snow was building but the road was still visible for most of the tour. He showed you the shed that he and Sam jumped off to see if they could fly. You saw the tire swing where he spent hours swinging and spinning. He told you all about high school.

          “The girls I dated always said one thing about my car and as soon as they did, I knew I would have to end it,” he said.

          “Oh God, I’m afraid to ask,” you said.

          Dean did a mock girly voice to say, “Oh Dean, the color of your car matches your eyes!”

          “HA! I don’t blame you!”

          Dean let off the brake and the car was rolling again.

          “So how fast does she go?” you asked.

          “One-track mind on you,” he chuckled. “I’ll show you some time but when the roads are dry.”

          “Thanks for asking me to come to this,” you said.

          “Thanks for saying ‘yes’,” he said moving his arm to lay across the back of the seat.

          Unwilling to miss the opportunity, you slid the rest of the way to lean against him as he drove. You rested your head on Dean’s shoulder and watched the snow falling outside. You put your hand on his thigh and his arm came down around your shoulders.

          By the time you and Dean got his car back in the garage and everything settled, it was late, and you’d probably missed dinner. It didn’t matter much anyway, you doubted Dean would want to sit down with them after whatever it was that had happened. You helped Dean close the barn doors and walked back up to the house with him.

         Inside, the house was oddly quiet. You almost expected to see someone in the kitchen, but it was empty. Dinner had been eaten and put away. Dishes were left on the island where the only light in the kitchen was left on. On top of the plates was a note folded in half. Dean picked it up to read while you rummaged in the refrigerator. You found the food containers and started pulling them out.

         Dean flipped open the note with his thumb. He recognized the handwriting as Ellen’s.

         _Dean - we’re sorry about earlier. Food’s in the fridge. Saved you some pie._

_—E_

         “What’s the note say?” You asked Dean.

         “Ellen’s just sorry about the crap from earlier,” he crumpled the note and put it in the trash.

         “You gonna tell me what happened?” You really wanted to know.

         “Let’s get some plates ready, then I’ll tell ya.”

          Once your food was warmed and ready, the two of you sat down at the island to eat and Dean told you everything. He told you about Adam, how his mother found out, and her subsequent death. He told you about his dad and how Dean had kept him alive and ran both businesses at a young age. You found out how Dean left Lebanon again and came into your life.

          “Do you still want to go to the gala tomorrow?” You asked. If he said ‘no’ it wouldn’t shock you in the least. The fact that he was still there was a little bit of a shock. Dean had been put through the wringer and had still come out clean on the other side.

          “Yeah, but we don’t have to stay afterward. Besides, I really want to see you in that dress.”

          “You have a clothing fetish,” you didn’t put it as a question.

           “No, I don’t. I just have an… appreciation for your… form,” he said.

          You smiled at him. He is poor face was beaten up and his hands had to be sore. And despite his injuries, he was still incredibly handsome.

         “Does it ever get tough walking around with that face?” You couldn’t stop your thoughts from spilling out of your mouth.

          “It does this week,” he said.

          “No, I mean, do you see you? Even with a cut and bruised cheek, you’re damn fine to look at,” you mused.

          “Well… I mean… it doesn’t suck,” he gave you a charming smile. “Gets me in with the cute mechanics.”

          You snickered, “Is that something you need to do often?”

          “I’ve been holding out.”

          “Oh yeah?”

          He nodded, “Had to find someone equally hot to use my manly wiles on.”

          “How’s that working out for you?”

          He gave you the most endearing look you had ever seen and felt your heart melt for him.

          “It’s working pretty good,” he grinned. “Got me a pretty lady that makes me feel things I didn’t think were possible for a washed-up old man.”

          You got up from your stool and were slightly higher than him sitting. He turned his body and leaned on the island as he looked at you, clearly worn out from the day.

          “The dishes are put away, let’s go to bed,” you suggested.

          He looked at you funny, “You’re not gonna tell me I’m not washed-up?”

          “I was, but you ruined it,” you teased, getting even closer to him. He put his arms around you pulling you close, his head resting on your chest. You stroked his head and shoulders and felt him relax into you a little more. “Come on. I’d feel better if we were in your room.”

          “You’re just trying to get me into bed,” he said as he let you go and got up from the stool. He’d not had the benefit of a nap and was feeling the pain. The lack of sleep and the pain from his injuries had been taking their toll all day.

          “Yes, I am. Now get your cute buns moving,” you said.

          “Don’t objectify me,” he scoffed.

          “I like you, Dean,” you said as he led the way.

          “I love you, too,” he whispered as you made your way up the stairs with him.

  
  
  


          You sat on the bed next to Dean who was already in bed and passed out. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. You looked at the clock and decided that it wasn’t too late to make a quick phone call. You hadn’t even been bringing it with you, not that you would have had any time to look at it. It had been so busy at the farm, you weren’t even really sure what day it was. The indicator light was flashing on your phone and you could only imagine the messages you had missed.

          Not bothering to look at them, you held down your speed dial button and waited for the video call to connect.

          “I do believe we need to have a discussion about what “Keep me updated” means. Not even a text from you,” Ryan didn’t say ‘hello’ again. “Why are you sitting in the dark? Is tall, dark, and sexy with you?”

          “Shh! Yes, he is and I don’t want to wake him,” you said. You knew she could see you just fine, though.

           “Then you shouldn’t have video chatted me, dipstick,” she countered.

          “Fair enough.” 

          You had tried to slide off the bed before you made the call, but Dean had his arm over your legs and was knocked out cold. If he woke up, he woke up, but you didn’t think he would.

          “What the hell has been going on that you can’t call me?” Ryan asked.

          It took a bit of explaining, but you finally made it through all of the details. She wanted you to spend a little more time on the sex details than you were entirely comfortable with, but she got the idea from what little you were willing to divulge.

          “Cmooooon tell meeeee.”  
          “You are MARRIED.”  
          “Exactly, I need to live vicariously through you.”  
          “Tsk tsk What would Christina say….”  
          “She would understand, now spill. Tell me all about it.”  
          “No, and I haven’t even told you the best(?) part.”

          “I think we know what the best part is…”

         “Pffft, you’re not wrong!” You laughed, “but seriously. He was so tired from everything today. When we were going upstairs, I thought he was just sleeping on his feet and joking around with me. So, I said, ‘I like you, Dean.’”

          “And??”

          “He whispered, ‘I love you, too.’ WHAT THE HELL RY?!”

         “Alright, as much as you want to freak out, cuz I know I want to, don’t. Don’t overthink it and let it fuck up whatever’s happening. Try to let things happen naturally.”

          “Oh! Easy for you to say!” You were absolutely freaking out, but she was also right. It could have just been his sleepy mind saying it in response to a dream-like state. Maybe he just said what he felt was right in the moment. Maybe he didn’t even mean for you to hear him.

          “(Y|N)! Don’t make me come down there and slap you. You got this. Now get some rest. You don’t need bags under your eyes for the big show tomorrow.”

          “Alright, you’re right, as usual,” you allowed.

          “Damn right, I am. Try to enjoy that sexy man… more. And CALL ME TOMORROW.”

          “Okay, shhhh!! Bye!”

          “Merry Christmas.”

          “Merry Christmas.”

          You sighed heavily and put your ringer on silent before putting it back on the nightstand. Your notification light was still flashing like crazy, but you didn’t think you could stand to go through them, you just wanted to get to sleep. Whatever it was that was on there could wait for you to see in the morning. Reaching for the pull chain on the lamp, you scooted down on the bed and pulled the chain. Dean stirred enough for you to lie down with him and settle in.

 _I think I love you, too._  


	6. Chapter 6

kazosakazosa.tumblr.com

Kazosa's Obsessions  
Kazosa's Obsessions  
I post what I like. Sometimes I write things.  
A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement - Part 6  
image  
Summary: All you wanted was to use your skills in automotive engineering and design to open your own custom car shop. When the rug gets yanked out from under you, one of your regular customers offers you a job that you just can’t resist. Will it stay a mutually beneficial arrangement, or will something unexpected bloom?

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Appearances by: John Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen (Harvelle) Singer, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, Benny and Laura Lafitte, OC Jack, OC Mom

Chapter Synopsis: It’s finally the day of the Gala. Dean and the reader go check out the ballroom with Bobby. Reader and Jess have a talk. John and the Reader have a mini showdown. The end of the chapter culminates with the reveal of who gets the Family Business!

Word count: eleven thousand, eight hundred fifty

Warnings: Shameless Star Wars reference. Extremely inappropriate behavior. Mild violence. Bad language. Alcohol consumption.

Masterlist

Tagging: @coffee-obsessed-writer @closetspngirl @sorenmarie87 @adoptdontshoppets @parinarain @his-paradox @babykalika2001 @docharleythegeekqueen @22sarah08 @flamencodiva @deans-baby-momma 

@collette04 @maralisa124 @mml232 @sympathyforluci 

@superthingsilike @lookwhatyoumademequeue @jxnnxbrxwn @winchest09 @sandlee44 @screechingartisancashbailiff @31shadesofbrown 

 

@theconfusedcat @cherryofdeath 

It was Christmas Eve and finally the day of the Gala. You and Dean had gone with Bobby to the brewery warehouse in town to check on the party set up. When Dean had said he ran the floor at his dad’s brewery, what you had pictured was completely different. Your imagination had seen a small, mom & pop set up. The reality was a monster of a building that held both the brewery and the warehouse. Each was on it’s own wing with a central visitation/sampling area where people could look into the brewery or the warehouse. How he had run all of that and oversaw the dealerships, with Bobby’s help, you would never know. He had been so young at the time and had so much on his plate.

“You didn’t tell me you ran the fucking Empire! I thought you were like Endor or some shit,” you couldn’t believe the enormity of the place.

“Welcome to Winchester corporate offices and brewing facility,” Dean said in a very professional voice.

“Dude!”

Dean gave a small snort and showed you around. The offices were surprisingly modest in size and made up for what they lacked in size with rich décor. The combination of wood, brick, and steel was visually stunning and was carried to the second floor where the viewing/sampling room was located.

“Wow,” there was nothing left to say as you entered the room.

The floor kept the same square footage as the main floor with none of the walls, only the brick pillars and wooden support beams. The party people that had dressed the room, had hung Edison lights from the support beams, giving the space a glow you hadn’t expected. A small stage at one end of the floor told you a DJ would be providing the music for the gala and had large speaker towers on either side of the DJ booth.

“Thought you and your friend did research,” he kept his voice quiet.

“She did, but she didn’t say it was like this,” you waved your hand at the expanse.

“You need to up your research game,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he continued. “Like I checked on you. What the hell are you doing working for Chuck with your skills? That … car you have? Holy shit.”

You smiled when he wouldn’t say ‘Tesla’.

“Mom asked me to, you know how it is. Plus, it was nice turning his mess around. Proved to myself I could do it on my own. My Black Beauty goes faaaast.”

Dean held her hand and wondered how he could give her everything she deserved. There was no guarantee that his dad would give him anything, let alone, the business. (Y|N) had her own money and talent to get started tomorrow, if she wanted to. He was impressed with her drive and resistance to anything that would derail her dream. It just made him wonder how he would fit into her life, or she into his, once this week was done.

A bustle of people were coming into the viewing room, carrying decorations and other items, to set up for the gala. Bobby was directing, barking orders at people where to go for the set up and when he was finished, he met up with you and Dean.

“Now that these yay-hoos have things under control, whaddya say we get the cars ready?” Bobby asked, a glint in his eyes.

“Cars?” you parked up.

“The one good thing that came out of Mom dying. Dad uses cars from the dealership to run people to and from the Gala so there’s no drinking and driving,” Dean filled you in.

“Ooo, what kinds of cars?”

“Mostly the big SUVs,” Bobby answered. “Excursions, usually.”

“Oooooooo,” you said again. “You’re gonna let me drive one, right?”

You really only got into fixing cars because you loved to drive them and your dad always said that if you were going to drive ‘em hard, you’d better know how to fix ‘em. Though, your love of cars began way before you were old enough to drive…

“Why do you think I brought ya down here? Need to have a couple at the house to haul y’all down to the office.”

You were practically giddy and Dean just shook his head at you.

“I’m ready, boss, let’s roll!” you said.

 

 

“I don’t get why I can’t see you dressed up before the party,” Dean asked again.

You were back at the farm and getting ready with him in his bedroom. You weren’t sure you could exactly explain the ‘why’ of it. There was a sort of honesty that comes in a moment of surprise. You wanted to see Dean’s face. You wanted him to be proud of you. And maybe, if John saw his reaction, he would finally see that Dean really did have feelings for you.

“Don’t take away my fun. I want to surprise you,” you explained. “I want to give you the wow factor.”

“You don’t need to impress me. Trust me, you already got the guy,” Dean was puttering around the room taking care of his last minute details.

You were wearing the dress under his robe, only small hints of green and black lace peeking out from the bottom.

“Stealing my robe now?” He asked.

On an average day, Dean Winchester cut a handsome profile, but it wasn’t an average day. Dean was wearing a tuxedo for the gala, minus his jacket and shoes. A word to describe his look hadn’t been invented yet. The stark white of his shirt in contrast to the black of his slacks only enhanced his already handsome features and appeal.

He caught you staring as he fiddled with the cuffs on his shirt. “What?” He finally got his cuff link to cooperate and laid on the bed near you, not caring if he got wrinkled.

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” you said again in response to him questioning you about his clothes. “I like your things, they’re comfortable. You might wanna get a bag of back up clothes ready, in case we need to bail or just ditch the getup.”

“Oh, good call,” he agreed. He paused for a long while, his finger tracing the zig-zag design on the comforter. “No matter what happens tonight, I gotta come clean to Sam. I don’t want this cloud of lies between us.”

“Are they lies, though?” You thought the feelings were real, even if the circumstances weren’t quite as you’d led his family to believe. Your thumb touched the band on your left hand, absently rubbing the smooth metal. “The only thing not quite true is how long we’ve been together.”

“These last few days with you have been an amazing dream,” he sat up.

It sounded like there was a ‘but’ coming and you tried to ignore the feeling of dread that was building. It had been a great few days with Dean, but it was all a fairytale, wasn’t it? Maybe he just told you what you wanted to hear. He didn’t even hint that he had said ‘I love you’ the night before, he just continued like nothing had happened. What would happen when the magic was over, would he still want you?

“It’s been great,” you agreed. Your voice sounded like it belonged to someone else. You didn’t want to keep him from telling Sam the truth, but would it ruin his chances of taking over the family business?

“No matter what happens tonight, I’m not sorry, not for any of it.” His hand went you your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin.

“Me either,” you whispered. “Speaking of after… how are we doing this? Are we leaving tomorrow? I really need to go see my mom…” you reached to grab your phone, remembering the notifications from the night before.

“You want me to meet your mom?” He seemed a little skeptical.

“I have literally met your whole family,” you said to him, holding down the power button on your phone to turn it on. “I think you can handle one person.”

“What did you tell her about where you’ve been this week?” He was curious.

“Told her my friend needed help dealing with family… and that I would come over when we were done,” you smiled. Your phone kept buzzing with each notification that finally got through. You wanted to look but Dean had your attention.

“I’m not usually the kind of guy that meets the parents,” he hemmed.

“Yes you are. You just haven’t been with the right woman. Don’t worry. She’s easy to get along with. Now my dad…he would have scared the shit out of you,” you snickered.

Dean smiled, his eyes bright, teeth showing through his grin, “Okay. I bet I could have gotten on his good side in five minutes.”

“Well, you would have been the first,” you laughed.

“Then what?” He asked.

Not understanding what he meant, “Then what, what?”

“After your mom’s house, then what?”

There was still so much you had to do and you hadn’t thought much about any of it for days. You’d been working so long to get to a point where you could leave Chuck behind, but then what, indeed. How would Dean fit into your life after this week? How would you fit into his? Before you could formulate any kind of answer, a knock at the door startled you both out of your building panic.

“Dean?” Sam was at the door again. “You ready?”

“Be right out,” he called to the door. “We can talk about it later,” he leaned in to give you a quick kiss. “Sam and I need to do the walk through with Dad but I am going to talk to Sam tonight.”

He’d made up his mind and his expression said that there was no changing it.

“Okay,” you nodded, “I’ll come find you later.”

Dean kissed you again and got up from the bed. He opened the door to the bedroom to reveal Sam and Jess standing outside in the hall. Jamming his feet into the still tied dress shoes, he grabbed the tux jacket and left with Sam.

Once the boys were gone, Jess came in carrying a cosmetics case and hooked her thumb in the direction they’d left.

“Dean looks awful serious,” she noticed. “What’s that about?”

“I guess he needs to talk to Sam about something,” you covered.

Jess narrowed her eyes from just a second, then put the case on the bed by you. “More than what they aired out in the nail salon?”

You only shrugged.

“Okay, lady,” she said, “let’s see the gown.”

Standing up, you pulled the stay on the robe and slipped the garment from your shoulders. Jess let out a long whistle in approval.

“Wow. You are definitely going to turn heads with that dress. Now I wish I’d picked a green one, too,” she said. “Smart move, John will approve.”

“That was the idea when I picked it, but now I don’t give a shit,” you said, spinning for her.

Jess studied your face. Seeing your mix of anxiety, anger, and worry, she asked, “You really do care for Dean, don’t you?”

“What?” You hadn’t expected her to say that and it took a moment for your brain to catch up. “Yes? Why?”

Jess was rooting around to find the perfect shades of green and was holding them up to compare to your dress. When she found ones that looked close to what she needed, she set them aside. She pulled out several pieces of makeup and you had no idea how she would use it all.

“It’s obvious to anyone around you two for more than five minutes that you two are the real deal,” she said. “Close your eyes.”

You closed your eyes, aware that she was beginning to lead you down a path you weren’t sure you wanted to travel yet.

“If you ask me, that’s pretty damn good after a whirlwind romance…” Jess applied eyeshadow.

“It’s been quite a week,” you agreed, unsure where she was going.

“I checked on you,” she said, applying more makeup, “like you kept telling us to do… I also know you and Dean may have known each other for a year, but you haven’t been dating,” she continued, moving to another color palate. “I mean, I get it…kinda. Dean finds out about me and Sam getting engaged and shopping around the business… I warned Sam, but he’s as stubborn as a moose. John has his hangups and Dean was looking to get his position solidified. But what I don’t get…”she blended the colors on your eyelids, “is why you said ‘yes’.”

Your heart sank. Jess had practically figured out the whole arrangement on her own. Jess paused long enough for you to open your eyes and answer her.

“Yes to what?” You stalled.

“Oh, there’s more than just playing his fiancé?” She raised an eyebrow at you. “We can unpack that later.”

She waited for you to answer.

“How long have you known? Are you going to tell John?”

Jess waved her hand in dismissal, “I doubt he would believe me if I did tell him. I knew the day I met you. A simple search on my phone, just like you said. I’m just curious as to why. You don’t need whatever it is Dean offered you, so… what gives?”

You couldn’t answer, not because you didn’t want to tell her, you didn’t know. Impala Guy had caught your eye for his car, but you’d definitely noticed his good looks, too. Maybe it was because he wasn’t like your other customers. Maybe it was the way he ate the donut when he asked you. Jess was right, you didn’t need Dean’s collateral…

“I don’t know,” you answered. “I just felt like, if I didn’t, I would miss out on someone great. I thought about what you said, about maybe I was waiting for him. I don’t know, maybe I was.”

“Hmm,” Jess grabbed the eyeliner, “your secret is safe with me. It’s not really for me to tell anyone, even Sam. What else did you say ‘yes’ to?”

Jess had you close your eyes again so she could apply the eyeliner.

“Nothing I’m willing to admit to right now,” you said.

“Dirty girl,” she teased.

“You aren’t making me look like a painted whore, are you?” You asked.

She snorted a laugh, “No. Promise. I’m going to pat myself on the back, actually. You’re gonna drop jaws.”

“Is it bad that I want this to be a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone?”

“To who? ….specifically.” She was curious.

“I want everyone who ever doubted Dean, or screwed him over, to see that he doesn’t need any of them and that…”

“He has you,” Jess concluded. “It’s not bad at all. Winchesters, in spite of everything, always back up their family.”

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly. You would not cry and ruin your makeup. Jess put on your mascara and lip stain next. You were on such a wild, rollercoaster week, it was starting to wear on your nerves.

“Alright, done.” Jess popped the lip stain stick back in the bottle with finality.

Forgetting you were even holding your phone, it buzzed once, letting you know you had missed messages. You got up from the bed in an anxious daze, curious to see what you looked like now that Jess had worked her magic. The full length mirror in Dean’s bathroom was the only mirror to afford you a full view of yourself. You’d already put on the earrings Dean had bought for you and slipped into your heels. Never one to look at yourself objectively, it wasn’t difficult this time, you looked like a completely different person. You pulled up the camera on your phone and snapped a quick picture.

The only thing that snapped you out of your shock was the opening strains of “Born to be Wild” coming from your phone. Bringing the device’s screen back into your view, the display showed the face of the person calling you.

“Weird ringer for Dean,” Jess said from the door. “You good?”

“Um, yeah, thank you so much, you did an amazing job,” you said.

“I’m gonna head out,” she said and waved so you could answer the phone.

When she was opening the door to leave the bedroom, you accepted the call.

“What do you want, Jack?”

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” he sounded annoyed.

“Merry Christmas,” you groaned. “How can I help you, Jack?” You gave him your best customer service voice.

“Been tryin’ ta get a hold of ye for a few days,” he said.

“And I told you I was going to be away for a week, or more, with probable shitty cell service,” you shot back. This call just proved Jack never listened. “I told you that when I asked you to watch Harry.”

You could hear him sigh heavily on the other end. It had always been a battle with Jack to get him to hear you.

“I know ye did,” he continued. “Something came up.”

The words made your skin prickle and your heart began thumping. When he’d called you up in the past and uttered the same phrase, something bad had happened. If it wasn’t him, it was someone in the club and one time, one of them hadn’t come back…

“What happened? Are you okay? Someone in the club?”

Though you and Jack had parted ways romantically, you still cared about him and his brothers in the club. They’d been like a second family for you in the last five years. You loved Jack, just not the way he had wanted. Club life was rough and every time the phone rang, he would either leave you, or it was bad news, never knowing if he was going to come back.

“Ach, no. Everything’s fine, luv. Me ma sold some o’ her baubles ‘n got me a ticket for a visit,” he explained, immediately feeling bad for worrying her.

“Oh, that’s good. It’s been a while, huh?” You said.

She was a nice woman. You’d been around for a few of the video phone calls Jack had made for special occasions. She still sent you cards for your birthday and Christmas even though both you and Jack had moved on. She even said, in front of Jack, that she still wished the two of you would get back together, or “at least give me a wee gran’baby.”

“Please give her my love, she was always nice to me,” you added.

“Aye, I will. Anyway, since ye’ve been incognito…”

You rolled your eyes.

“…I called yer mum.” He let that statement hang in the air a moment. Jack was not her favorite person ever, but she tolerated him. “Asked her if she would take the laddie.”

“And how did that go over?”

“The usual lecture on being a responsible adult not realizing that’s what I was bein’.” Jack sighed, he’d tried to be civil with your mom, but it could be difficult. “So, he’s with your mum. Thought ye could stop by on the way back ta get him.”

“Good idea,” you said, “That’s exactly what we were going to do.” You softened toward Jack. He was a good man, but he would never leave the club. You would always have been second, no matter how much you may have loved each other. To make things worse, you knew just enough about what happened in the club to scare the hell out of you and wonder what may visit you when he was away. That fear is where Harry came into play. Harry was the 65 pound gray pitbull Jack had gotten for you for protection and company while he wasn’t home, which was often. Jack was never going to settle down, not even for you.

“There’s something else,” his voice had turned serious.

“Oh god, what?”

“Some arsehole came nosing around, askin’ about ya. Got real personal. The lads filled him full a bullshit, sent him on his way. What’re ya gettin’ into, luv? You running from something? What kind of friend gets a private DICK sent after ya?”

Jesus fucking Christ, it’s been an eventful week.

“What did he ask and what did you boys tell him?” You knew it had to be John behind this latest bit of fuckery.

“Ah… well… the boys may have implied that… you were a club bunny. Not in so many words though,” his voice was low. “And that Harry is our son.”

If it had been under any other circumstances, other than Dean’s disgusting dad, you might have laughed. Of course, the boys thought they were covering for you, not knowing the circumstances of why the PI was there.

“For fucks sake, Jack,” you groaned.

“What’s going on, lass?” He asked again.

It took a little while to get through the high points of your visit to Kansas. You didn’t go too deep into detail, but Jack was no dummy. He could hear all of the things you weren’t saying. When you finished telling the story, the other end of the connection was oddly silent, his breath the only thing that told you he was still there.

“Jack?”

“Do ye love him?” He was blunt. “The way ye couldn’t love me?”

“Jack, you know I love you, but yes. He’s the one, Jack,” not for the first time, you felt the twist in your gut with the feeling of failing Jack. The two of you had talked about it many times, and he’d had plenty of ‘bunnies’ to keep him company, but you’d both agreed that it wouldn’t have worked for you two.

“Ach,” he scoffed, “now I’m grossed out. You know who to call if ye need backup.”

“I’ve dealt with some scary and fucked up people in my life. John fucking Winchester is nothing to get riled up about.”

With nothing left to say, Jack said, “Love ya, kid.”

“Love you, too, Ol’ Man,” you smiled. “Remember to tell your mum I said ‘hi’.”

“Alright, ye nag. Bye.”

“Bye.”

As you sat on the bed, you dropped the hand holding the phone to your lap and watched as Jack’s name and face disappeared from the screen.

There was a time when seeing his name gave you butterflies, but there were far more times that it scared the hell out of you. The club never walked on the right side of the law and his calls became something you dreaded. Loving Jack had never been the problem. Living with Jack meant living with the club and everything that came with it. While it had taught you to toughen up, it had also made you a nervous wreck and distrusting. When you finally broke it off with Jack and asked him to move out, you knew you hurt him, but he also understood.

“I’m sorry I can’t give ye the life you deserve,” he’d said, both of you crying by then.

“I know you did the best you could,” you said back.

Jack would always be family, but he’d never stolen your heart the way Dean had. A smile spread across your face as you thought about him and wondered if he would light up when he saw you.

Flipping through the contacts on your phone, you stopped on your mother’s icon and pressed the call button. It took a couple of rings for her to answer and you could hear Harry when she did finally answer.

“Harry! Shut up! Hello?”

“Hi mom,” you said.

“Your dog is here,” she said.

“I know. I just talked to Jack. You okay with him until I get there tomorrow?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” she said then changed her tone to talk to him, “He’s such a goood booyyy. Jack… you know how I feel about him…”

Your mother had made it quite clear over the years. She tolerated him, and sometimes she even liked him, but she would never forgive him.

“Yeah. I do. Is it okay if Dean and I come up in the morning tomorrow?”

“Ohh… I was thinking it was a girlfriend that needed your help this week. Who is this guy, someone special?”

You hated talking about your love life with your mother, but she still had hope for grandchildren, too.

“Yeah, he is,” you admitted. “His family is crazy, but he’s not. He seems like the only level-headed one in the group. Hot as hell, strong work ethic, super smart…” you felt like you were gushing.

“I’m intrigued,” she said. “You going out tonight?”

“Yeah, big party. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said, “no drinking and driving. Love you. Harry, say bye.”

You could actually hear a muffled ‘woof’ from Harry. Your mom pretended to be put out by his presence, but it was all a show. She spoiled him something awful and he loved being at her house because of it.

“No, ma’am, promise,” you said. “They actually have a car service just for this occasion. Love you, Mom. See you tomorrow.”

Before you left the room, you made sure to grab your clutch and stuffed your phone inside it and went downstairs to find Jess and get to the party.

 

 

Dean knew (Y|N) wanted to make an entrance with flair, but he was getting bored. He was barely at the party and he already waited to bail, but he couldn’t do it until she got there so they could both go. People were milling about, mingling, making small-talk before dinner was served. Being early in the night, the lights were only slightly dimmed, the overhead lights would eventually go all the way dark and the twinkle lights would set the mood for the evening. It was quite a sight to see a warehouse lit like the evening sky.

Thankfully, Bobby had seen him loitering near the door and brought over a drink for him and chatted with him to pass the time. He had a lot to say about the dealerships and how well they were doing. Bobby still had executive control over them, despite John’s official ownership. John was the silent owner, and Bobby liked it that way.

“Look, son, there ain’t no easy way to say it,” Bobby had something to say that he’d been holding onto for a while and Dean would probably be leaving in the morning. “I ain’t getting any younger and I’d like to enjoy my golden years while I still can. Maybe take Ellen on a trip.”

Dean patiently waited for Bobby to get to the point.

“No matter what happens tonight with your daddy and the business, I want someone to take over running the dealerships for me. Thought maybe you could do that for me, help out an old man. (Y|N) could do whatever she does in the service department. Designer, ain’t she?”

Bobby had surprised him. Dean didn’t know what he’d been getting at, but he hadn’t expected Bobby to say that. His thoughts spun out in so many different directions, he couldn’t follow one long enough to give Bobby an answer.

“That’s a lot to spring on ya, boy,” the older man admitted, patting Dean’s shoulder. “You think on it. Talk to your lady and get back to me. No rush, but sooner than later. Before next Gala.”

Dean was still stunned when he noticed Bobby do something odd. The older man stood up straighter and pulled down on the hem of his jacket. He wasn’t looking at Dean anymore. Bobby’s gaze was over his shoulder and toward the entrance. Following his line of sight, Dean saw, not what, but who had caught his attention.

He almost didn’t recognize her. If not for the dress and the earrings he’d bought her, he might not have. He was mesmerized by the way she sparkled. It wasn’t until she was right in front of him that he realized she sparkled because she was moving…

 

On the drive to the warehouse, you’d had time to get your thoughts under control and think of what exactly it was you were going to say to Dean about what had happened with Jack. You just hoped you’d be able to tell Dean before John opened his dumb mouth first.

Once at the warehouse, you carefully got out of the Excursion and made your way inside. There was a canopy over a red carpet with holly garland and lights strung the full length of the canopy and woven through the underside of the canopy. It was beautiful.

You’d made your way to the gala floor and could see Dean talking to Bobby, but you stayed back far enough that the light wouldn’t land on you. Jess had made you look like a movie star and you were looking for your red carpet entrance. Jess was with you only briefly once you arrived at the gala. She’d spotted Sam and excused herself. When you saw your moment, you took it.

The lights had dimmed just enough to make your dress sparkle. Bobby saw you first, and you smiled at the reaction you got from him, but it was Dean that made your stomach flutter. Slowly, he turned to see you. His expression went from confusion to recognition. Then you saw it, the look you’d been waiting forever to see…

You put your hand on his chest and the tux fabric twitched under your hand as you brought him out of his daze.

“See? Now that’s why I wanted to make an entrance,” you smiled up at him. “What do you think?”

“You better marry her quick, son, before I steal her away,” Bobby winked at you and excused himself.

“You took my breath away,” Dean whispered. “You’re like green fireworks.”

“Way right answer,” you said, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him. “What are we supposed to do now?”

He cleared his throat and cocked up his eyebrow, “We go to the table, get together, have a few laughs.”

His Bruce Willis impression needed a little work.

“We need a code word so we don’t go full Nakatomi on this place,” you suggested.

“We?”

“I told you, I have your back,” you reminded. Dean still held you close. “Besides, your dad has a mouth on him and I may need to slap a bitch.”

“I want to be there if you do,” he sounded excited at the idea. “Sounds kinda hot.”

“So what do you think about the code word? Not yippie ki yay… Nakatomi?” You said and watched a defeated look cross Dean’s face, he wanted “yippie”.

“Since you shot that down, Gruber?”

“Argyle?”

“The limo driver?”

You nodded.

“That could work, yeah. Fits into conversation, too. ‘Did you see the argyle socks on that guy?’”

“Yeah, this is okay, we can do this,” he agreed.

You put your arm through his and let him lead you through the crowd of people, stopping now and then to mingle. Though he’d been away, he still seemed to know almost everyone and their families. He didn’t only talk about business with them, he knew them, asked about their kids, their parents. More than one person asked if he would come back, even if he didn’t get CEO.

Dean only gave noncommittal answers and kept you moving until you reached the table that had been reserved for the family. Bobby was there with Ellen. Sam and Jess followed right behind you, and John was already seated middle center.

“I’m not sitting by him,” you said to Dean. You could feel John’s eyes on you. It had been odd before, now it was unsettling.

Dean patted your hand in the crook of his elbow.

“I’ll be to the left of Dad, Bobby on his right, and you next to me. Then Sam next to you,” he explained. “Argyle, remember?”

“Right,” you straightened your body, steeling yourself. “No one is going to ruin this night.” You remembered your phone call from earlier in the night and knew you should tell Dean sooner rather than later, but people were filing in, settling down for dinner. There would be too many ears listening to risk it. “I need to talk to you in private later, okay?”

“Everything okay?” He said to your ear as he pushed in your chair to sit down.

“Yes, just a recurring blast from my past,” you said quietly.

“Good evening everyone!” John’s voice boomed without the need of a microphone.

Sam quickly picked up the microphone and flicked it on to hand to John.

“Welcome to the Family Business annual Christmas Gala!” John was already laying it on thick. “Thank you, all of you, for your hard work. Your family’s understanding has, once again, made this year, our best year yet.” He paused for applause. “As you know, I appreciate what you do to keep the Family Business rolling and this year, that means a 25c raise, on top of cost of living, for our hourly folks and a half day of comp time for our salaried people.” He paused again. “That is my thanks to you all for a job well done. Now, I know there are rumors going around that I’m planning on retiring. I would like to address those rumors. Yes, I do plan on retiring. When may that happen?…I just don’t know. Maybe one of my boys will be up here next year.” John looked at both of his sons, then back to the room of people waiting on him to elaborate. “Truth is, I haven’t decided on my successor. I’ll let you all know as soon as I do. Until then…let’s get this gala going! Bring on the food!”

You put your hand on Dean’s leg. He was doing an okay job of keeping his face from showing what he was thinking. His leg felt like a spring that was wound too tight, though, like the tension might get released at any moment and blast out of control. I took him a second or two to turn his attention to you. You didn’t have to say anything to him, he just seemed to know what was your question.

In response, he put his hand over yours on his leg and squeezed. “I’m good. Listen, I need to talk to you later, need to run something by you.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “Soon as we can steal away. I have something to tell you, too.”

 

Fortunately, the disappointment from John was soon forgotten as the party got going in full swing. Before you knew it, dinner was done, the dishes cleared, and the lights were dimmed, twinkle lights in full twinkle mode. It truly was a beautiful sight. The light cast a warm glow over the space, giving the room a cozy feel despite the size.

You and Dean got away from the table long enough for the dishes to be cleared away and get drinks from the bar at the back of the room. You’d also noticed a photo booth that you made a point to get him in later. You made your way back to your place at the dinner table, chairs turned toward one another, your knees between Dean’s. His thumb was stroking the soft flesh on the inside of your knee. He was trying to convince you to run away with him, right then and there. He told you of all the places he wanted to visit and you hoped he would, with you on his arm. He told you his dreams for the future.

“We could go to Bali,” you suggested.

“I don’t do planes,” he said.

“But it’s French Polynesia… and hot… naked cabana time… skimpy bathing suits…” you painted the picture for him. “If it’s private enough, skinny dipping, naked all the time. Or if we did a resort, we would have people waiting on us, massages, no worries, at all, ever.”

“Well,” his fingertips were traveling up your inner thigh, “That naked in the cabana thing sounds good…”

He leaned in the rest of the way, his lips telling you that he would go with you wherever you wanted, you just had to say the word. When he pulled away, he had a dreamy look on his face and, once again, you were so glad you’d said yes.

“Bobby pulled me aside tonight. Said if the ol’ man doesn’t give it to me, he wants me to take over for him at the dealership,” he watched you for some kind of reaction. “He said you’d be welcome, too. Thought maybe you’d run the service department, do customs.”

You’d only just met Bobby and were touched by his offer. If there were one person in Dean’s family whose trust you wanted, it was Bobby’s. It was nice to be offered a sweet setup like that, it was pretty amazing, and you could still do your custom work.

“What did you say?”

He shrugged, “Nothing. Bobby said I should run it by you.”

“That’s a generous offer for either of us. Is it a package deal?”

Dean shook his head, “I think Bobby just wants to make sure it’s in good hands before he retires. And I think he likes you and wants you to know you’re included if you want to be. Plus, I think he just really wants me back down here.”

“Or maybe he just knows what’s right and wants you to get a spot here,” you guessed.

“He said he wants to take Ellen places while he still can.”

“That’s kinda sweet,” you said.

“He’s not the only one that’s sweet,” he licked his lips and leaned in to kiss you again.

“Let’s go find that photo booth,” you suggested. It had been far too long since you’d kissed him properly. “Too many eyes are out here.”

It only took a moment for Dean to catch on to what you wanted to do. He pushed back from his chair and helped you up from yours. The gala had shifted back into a more jovial mood and the festivities were back in full swing. When you got to the booth, there wasn’t anyone waiting and the couple in there were just getting their photos out of the finished slot. As soon as they had passed by, Dean pulled you inside the booth and onto his lap. You pulled the curtain closed and gave Dean’s lips your full attention.

The hand that was holding you on his lap squeezed at your hip, his free hand on your ribs just under your breast. His handsome face was barely an inch from yours. Tipping your head slightly, you closed the small distance between you. Your hand went to his face, holding him to you. Your lips parted for him, his kiss more urgent. Your tongue answered his equally and passionately. Your hand raked through his hair. Dean was making sounds that told you he was almost ready to leave the party.

Panting slightly from the make out, you asked, “So how do these things work? I’ve never been in one before.”

“This is what you’re supposed to do in here, sweetheart,” his eyes twinkled.

You smiled at him and kissed him again. Pulling away, your fingers touched the sore spot on his cheek and wished things had been different for him Dean deserved so much better than he got.

“I love you, too, by the way,” you said, your voice low and full of the emotion you felt for him.

“I didn’t know you heard me,” he said.

“Did you mean to say it?”

He nodded. “I know it’s been the worst week ever, but I haven’t regretted a bit of it. And it’s ridiculous to believe that a couple can fall in love in a week, but…”

“Here we are,” you said.

“Will…” he cleared his throat, “Will you marry me? For real, I mean.”

The whole week flashed before your eyes… then it flashed forward through your whole life with Dean.

“When we get all of our ducks in a row and things are going the way we want, I’ll marry you,” you said. “We don’t have to rush. Plus, we’ll have time to talk on the way to my mom’s house.”

Dean pressed buttons on the touch screen to get the photo-booth working. You’d mentioned going to see your mom while on the long drive to Kansas, but Dean probably hadn’t thought much about it since then.

“Your mom is gonna love me,” he said.

“I’m sure she will. It was my dad that you would have had to worry about. Could have killed you with a glance,” you teased.

You barely noticed the flashing coming from the camera.

Dean got a small smirk on his face, “No one is going to scare me away, Mrs. Winchester.”

You leaned in to kiss him again.

A few moments later, the photos were done, but you weren’t done kissing Dean.

“Everything okay in there?”

“Yep, just… talking.”

“Could you talk out here? Got some folks waiting,” it was the booth operator.

You and Dean grabbed your photos quickly and made your way over to the bar. You were far too sober for it being so late in the evening. While you waited for your drinks, you looked at the photos and laughed. Dean’s hair was a mess, but remarkably, the booth had caught the moment when Dean said ‘Mrs. Winchester’ and the looks on your faces. The happiness there almost made you tear up.

“I’ve got something I need to tell you, Dean,” you said, not wanting to ruin the moment, but you needed to tell him.

Dean grabbed your drink and gave you his elbow to take you back to your table.

“I’m listening,” he said.

He brought you back to the table where you’d had dinner.

“Before getting here tonight, I got a call from my ex, Jack,” you trailed off, seeing if he would react.

“One of the biker guys?” he simply asked.

You nodded. “He said there was some “private dick” nosing around the club members asking about me.”

“And what did he tell the P.I.?” he was cautious.

“He and the club members fed him a line of bullshit that I was a club bunny and not attached to anyone in the club. Not the greatest of stories, but they protect the club, former ol’ ladies don’t get much protection. They thought they were helping, honestly.”

“Okay, so… what about this, Jack, guy? Is he going to be a problem? Does he still love you?”

It made your heart hurt to think about it. You didn’t want to hurt Dean, not today, but the truth was what you’d agreed upon and that is what he would get.

“Jack was my guy for almost a year. His club is the one that hangs around in the area. They aren’t even in Bemidji… He lived with me for a while, but even then, I hardly ever saw him. Jack will always be special to me, and yes, I did love him, but not the way people in love should love one another. I couldn’t ever see me growing old with him,” because he might not grow old in his club, you thought but didn’t say. “I loved him, but it wasn’t a lasting love. My mom tolerated him, sometimes she liked him. I was going to go to her house anyway, but Jack was calling to let me know that Harry is there because he needed to leave town.”

“Does he still live with you?”

“Harry does. Jack lives wherever Jack lands for a night, which hasn’t been my place in 4 years,” you explained.

“Who the hell is Harry,” he asked a little more gruff than he intended.

“Harry is the pitbull that Jack got me for company and protection when he was away, which was a lot,” you clarified. “Harry is huge now, but he’s such a sweet boy. Scares the hell out of Chuck. Harry hates Chuck, but loves everyone else…”

“Is Jack going to be a problem? Is he going to come looking to start trouble?”

That was a question you wouldn’t have been able to answer just a couple years ago.

“No. We’ve talked about it a lot and we both agreed that our lifestyles didn’t match up. He’ll always be in my life. He’s family. He moved on and so did I. Though, I’m still welcome with the club. They’re protective of me and Harry.”

He put his hand on yours and brought your hand to his lips.

“Okay,” he sighed, “we can deal with that.”

He said ‘we’, you thought.

“Hey, um… Dean?” Sam had appeared.

“Dude, your timing. We need to talk about that,” Dean said, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“I thought maybe we could go to the floor and try some of the new product, have a talk,” he said, clearing his throat.

Sam’s glance flashed to you and knew immediately that it was a private conversation not for your ears. Dean said he’d wanted to tell Sam the truth. You supposed it was the perfect opportunity for them and let them off the hook.

“You boys go do your thing. I’ll see what’s going on up here, maybe see what Ellen or Jess are doing,” you said.

 

 

“Well, that just figures,” were the first words out of Sam’s mouth after Dean had told him the whole truth. “Leave it to you to try to tip the scales in your favor.”

“Thanks a lot, Sam,” Dean fumed. “How else am I going to get what I’ve earned? Of course, you wouldn’t know what that’s like to have to fight for every inch. You’re the golden boy. Things have always just fallen into your lap.”

They were in their dad’s office after taking a walk through the warehouse floor. The whisky was good, but Dean already had ideas for improvement. He got up from the edge of the desk where he had been sitting, looking for his dad’s stash of the good stuff.

“Things don’t just fall in my lap, Dean. No one took the bar for me. I worked hard for that,” Sam defended. Though, Sam was aware of how lucky he’d been in his life, he hadn’t considered that it may be because of sacrifices from Dean. “Do you really want the business this much or are you trying to prove something to Dad?”

Dean knew it was both. He wanted to run the brewery how he saw fit. He wanted to show everyone that he could do it and be successful. It wasn’t until a few days ago that he was sure that he could do it. When he brought (Y|N) with him, it was like he finally knew that he could and that he wanted it with her.

“Maybe… probably,” he admitted. “It doesn’t change the fact that I need every advantage I can get.”

“Why did you rope (Y|N) into this? Are you going your separate ways after tonight?” Sam continued.

The thought of losing (Y|N) was an unexpected gut punch, no matter what had happened upstairs. But then, she said she would marry him… and a smile spread across his face. She was going to be his wife. He’d given up a lot in his life and had gotten on just fine, but he was not going to lose her. They would overcome anything together.

“I don’t know, Sam. I would see her at the garage… she looks great in coveralls… hair up like Rosie the Riveter… dirt and grease… and she ran the whole thing. She knows more about cars than even Bobby. She’s confident, smart, talented…” he trailed off a moment thinking about how cute she was bossing her employees around, but he could also see it wasn’t her favorite thing to do, either. “She stood up for me, Sam, didn’t back down. Never had a woman do that for me, usually it was the other way around… Then, watching her here, getting to know her, probably better than I’ve known anyone…” Dean found the bottle of the good stuff and poured himself a heavy drink. “Asking her to come with me might be the smartest thing I’ve ever done. I can’t imagine letting her go.”

Dean poured some of the whiskey into Sam’s glass, too. They both let his words hang for a few moments while they drank.

“So, how long have you been in love with her?” Sam asked quietly.

Dean took a thoughtful pause, “All my life.”

He downed what was left of the whiskey in his glass. His dad’s office hadn’t changed much over the years and neither had the location of the secret booze stash. Dean poured himself a single this time and looked at the pictures on the bookshelves. He was in two of them. One was the last obligatory family picture and the other was of him and Benny when the new building was finished.

“You’d be in more if you were around more,” Sam mused.

“That door swings both ways, Sam,” Dean sipped the whiskey without turning back. “Who do you think the old man is going to hand it off to?”

Sam considered the options before answering, “I really don’t know. There’s a good argument for all of us. You. Me. Adam. Benny. Who knows… maybe he won’t even do it this year.”

“Well now, wouldn’t that be something,” Dean pondered.

 

 

Dean had barely been gone with Sam before Ellen came over and took the chair Dean had emptied. She looked beautiful in her gown. Her hair was up and it showed off the beautiful jewelry she was wearing, much in the same way you were doing.

“Hey, (Y|N),” she said and looked out at the people on the dance floor for a moment. Then she turned in her seat, leaning on the table so she could look at you better.

“Dean tell you ‘bout Bobby’s offer?” she asked.

You nodded.

“Bobby likes you,” she went on, “and that’s no small feat. The old man and I have gotten real good at reading people. We know you’re not telling us everything, but we trust you… hell, we all have our secrets. Not that you need our blessing, but if it means anything to you, me ‘n Bobby couldn’t have picked someone better for our boy.” She patted your hand, “You think on that offer and let us know when you two decide.”

“I will,” you said. Ellen smiled and stood to leave.

“Ellen?” you waited for her to look back at you. “Thank you. You and Bobby made me feel welcome and I promise I’ll do my best to take care of him.”

“That’s all we want, honey,” she gave you a slight nod with a smile and went to find her husband.

There was an elegance about the woman that was overshadowed by the years of hard work that had shown itself on her face. She worked hard, took zero shit, and it had paid off. You could only hope to aspire to such levels of grace and badassery.

When you finished your drink, you were feeling warm and relaxed. You got up from the table and took your glass back to the bar. The bartender noticed you right away and moved to take your order.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

Normally, you were used to customers hitting on you and it took you by surprise when the cute bartender’s eyes raked over you, licking his bottom lip. Until that moment, you weren’t sure what you were going to order.

“Ice water,” you answered.

“Yes ma’am,” he grinned, eyes twinkling.

You barely had gotten the glass in your hand before an imposing, dark presence made itself known to you.

“I trust you’re enjoying the evening,” John’s voice was close to your ear.

The timbre of his voice and breath, reeking of bourbon, on your bare neck made your skin crawl. Quickly, you stepped away from him and barely acknowledged him.

“I was,” you kept walking.

“Seems to me, you have no trouble finding a good time,” he followed you.

You weren’t in the mood for a fight, but it seemed that was all John wanted from you. If he didn’t shut his mouth, that was exactly what he was going to get.

“Yes. I make a point to enjoy myself, no matter what situation I’m in,” you answered, still not stopping for him.

“Mmm, that’s what I’ve heard,” he said.

Your pace came to an abrupt halt.

“What do you think you know about me?” you asked, sick of his games. “As far as I know, Dean is the only person we both know. What could you have possibly ‘heard’ about me that didn’t come from me or him?”

You were so grateful Jack had called you…

“I did just as you said. Soon as Dean brought you here, I had a PI do some checking up on you. Your ‘cousin’ Chuck doesn’t like you much,” he said.

“Chuck is an idiot and I don’t like him much, either. What else do you think you have?”

“You never said anything about the biker club.”

“And? Once again, my personal life before Dean is none of your damn business,” you were doing nothing to keep your voice down.

“Those guys at the club had a lot to say.”

“That right?”

John moved into an uncomfortably close proximity, but you didn’t budge. He was not going to intimidate you, not today.

“Yeah, I knew there was something about you. They said all of them gave you a ride. Figured, if everyone else had a ride…” his fingertips touched your arm near your shoulder and slid down your arm holding the glass.

Equally angered and repelled by his unwanted, lustful, advances, you felt an unimaginable rage swell inside you. The indignation made you feel like you were, at least, twice your size. You drew back your free hand, balled it into a fist and threw your whole body into the punch that landed squarely on his cheek bone.

The jolt of it send pain through your hand and wrist traveling up to your elbow. You stumbled with John as he pulled your arm when he fell. He let go of you to brace his fall, crumpling in a heap, his head bouncing on the wood floor.

“I warned you,” you stood over John. Then you dumped what was left of your ice water on his face. The small thumps the ice made were pleasing to your ears. The bastard was long overdue.

You knew people were staring and that you had made a huge scene. You really didn’t give a shit. You slammed your glass down on the nearest table and started in the direction you’d seen Dean and Sam leave. You barely took two steps before the crowd began to part and you saw Dean.

“Are you okay? What happened? What did he do?” Dean was furious.

“I’m fine,” you assured him.

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. He just has a mouth on him. Needed to shut him up,” you responded shakily.

“Alright,” Dean said with finality, “I’m calling Argyle on this. You ready?”

He’d already taken your hand and was pulling you closer to the door. You nodded, though he was barely even waiting for your response. The altercation with John left you rattled, your emotions a mess. You wanted to cry, only because you were so angry. Never had anyone treated you so badly out of false assumptions created in their own mind. You didn’t deserve any of what John had done to you and had to remind yourself that John Winchester was not worth your energy.

Nobody tried to stop you and Dean on your way out. If they hadn’t seen what happened, the look on Dean’s face was enough to make a demon cower in fear. A modicum of relief made it into your shoulders as you rounded the corner to leave the gala party room.

“You alright?” Dean asked again, stopping with you just before heading to the elevator.

All he did was look at you and you felt the first sobs start to well up. Dean gathered you close and you lost all control you’d been desperately holding onto. The tears flowed as you sobbed into his shoulder. His arms held you tight while you wept, his hand gently rubbing your shoulders.

Dean as livid. He wanted to go kick some ass but (Y|N) needed him more. He held her as she sobbed, feeling worse about all of the stress she was letting out. He didn’t want the Family Business if it meant having to be around his dad. He damn sure didn’t want to force (Y|N) to deal with his shit. He stroked the soft, warm skin of her shoulders as she began to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” you said pulling out his pocket square. “I didn’t think I had all of that bottled up.”

“No need to apologize,” he rubbed your arms. “You didn’t bring any of it on yourself. I should be apologizing to you. Not to rub salt in the wound…” he indicated his own eyes, “looks like you went ten rounds with Tyson.”

You were already feeling a little better.

“Pfft. Tyson doesn’t have my rage. KO’d your dad in one,” you wiped your eyes with his hanky and spotted the bathroom. “I just match you now. I’ll be back.”

He smirked. “I’ll be right here,” he answered.

 

 

Only a few moments passed when he heard the elevator door open. Not wanting to talk to anyone, he turned and leaned on the wall. The group of people surrounded him and he wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Sam and I took your daddy down to his office,” Benny broke the silence.

“All 4 of you needed to tell me that?” Dean saw Laura and Jess with Sam and Benny.

“Someone had to,” Sam grumbled.

Jess noticed (Y|N) wasn’t around and went into the nearby bathroom to check on her.

“Hold on now, don’t need a dustup between you two. Only told you cuz he came to, threw a fit and ordered me ‘n stringbean to come get you back to the office,” Benny explained.

“What the hell for?”

Benny shrugged. He never did understand how John’s mind worked. Benny just took his orders and followed them.

“Who knows, but he sure got a bug up his butt about something.”

Dean looked around the open space to see if (Y|N) had come back out yet.

“I think Jess went in with her. She knows what’s going on and can find us when they’re ready,” Sam offered.

Dean still went to the bathroom door and pushed it open a crack to tell (Y|N) he was going to his dad’s office. He heard, “OK, we’ll be down in a sec,” from her before he left. His family members weren’t high on the trustworthy scale. He got in the elevator with them and a sense of unease filled him as the doors closed.

 

 

Your face was a ruined mess. Most of the top of your eyes were still in decent shape, but the eyeliner and mascara were a total loss. With only the bathroom soap and scratchy paper towels to work with, you did your best to clean up the ruins. The cold water felt good on your cheeks. You were calmer now and hoped to save some of Jess’ hard work. The door made a slight squeaking sound as it opened and closed. You looked into the reflection to see who had come in.

“It’s useless,” Jess said, making eye contact with you in the mirror. “No matter what you do, you still look amazing.”

“I’m a mess,” you scoffed.

She put her small purse on the counter and pulled out a compact.

“Stop it,” she said, “it’s not that bad.”

She cleaned up the remnants of eyeliner and mascara still on your cheeks and added powder to your face while she spoke.

“I wish I could have seen it,” she said. “I just came around the corner and he was already down.”

“He deserved it,” you stated.

Jess nodded, “Of that, I have no doubt.”

“Is everyone mad?” you felt like a kid about to be punished for fighting.

“No,” Jess shook her head, “on the contrary. Everyone knows John is a nightmare. He burns bridges so quickly. People only stay because he’s not very present…visible with employees and he throws these parties that are always a good time and the bonuses. John is the only one pissed.”

Anxiety crept back in. What if you ruined everything for Dean. If he lost out on his dream because of you, you would never forgive yourself.

“Uh-uh. Don’t do that. I see those gears spinning. Dean is proud of you.”

The bathroom door creaked again.

“(Y|N)? I’m going down to Dad’s office with Sam and Benny,” Dean’s voice was muffled by the door jamb.

You looked to Jess. She nodded and pointed from you to her mouthing the words, “Us, too.”

“OK! We’ll be down in a sec,” you called. You gave Jess a questioning look.

“John wants Dean, you, Sam, me, Benny, and Laura in his office. He didn’t say why, but I think he might have come to a decision about the business,” Jess explained.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. And no, I don’t know for sure. John is… unpredictable.”

You’d learned as much, though, the only thing you could count on was for him to be inappropriate.

“Let’s go see what he has to say, huh?” Jess clicked her compact shut and tucked it back into her purse.

 

 

“Maybe you should have kept your mouth shut and your hands to yourself for a damned change and maybe she wouldna decked you!”

You could hear Dean’s voice booming through the closed door.

“You should learn to keep her under control,” John roared back.

“She did nothing wrong! Nothing! If she hadn’t dropped you, I would have,” Dean yelled.

John scoffed, “Need a woman to fight for you?”

You opened the door with Jess in time to see Benny and Sam restrain Dean and John. Dean was struggling to get past Benny and Sam was pushing John back. Laura was backed into the opposite corner, carefully watching but staying out of the way.

“Whoa, buddy, whoa,” Benny sounded like he was calming a wild horse.

When the men had calmed down, you, Jess and Laura sat on a leather couch that faced John’s desk. Two large leather wingback chairs were between you and John’s desk. Sam took one of the chairs, then Benny took the other when Dean refused. Dean paced a moment then poured himself a drink.

You sat on the end of the couch closest to the door. Jack taught you to never get caught in a situation you couldn’t get out of. Rule number one, always have an easy exit. You watched Dean struggle to keep his cool while you were waiting for John to tell you all why he called you in. Dean was drinking a lot that night, not that you blamed him. The booze just wasn’t helping him relax. When he looked your direction, you caught his eye and glanced at the couch arm.

He had a scowl on his face, but he accepted the suggestion and sat on the oversized couch arm. Dean leaned back, his elbow resting on the back of the couch for support. Dean was going to take a sip from his tumbler, but you reached up to take it from him and had a sip for yourself. Nudging his leg with the back of your hand, he reached for the glass, his fingertips brushing over your hand as he took the glass.

John surveyed his office looking like the smug bastard he is. An odd look crossed his features only further making you wonder what the hell this was all about and what crazy thoughts were running through his head.

“This turned out to be quite the night, didn’t it?” John mused.

It gave you endless pleasure to see him rub his cheek and pop, what you assumed were, pain killers. You’d thrown everything you had into that punch.

“And who’s fault is that?” Dean grumbled.

You patted his leg absently. The office was full to capacity, but you were sure Dean could launch himself over the desk in a blink.

“I’ll just cut to the chase. I’m not retiring,” John dropped the bomb.

Everyone sat in stunned silence.

“Not yet, anyway,” he added.

“If you were going to keep it, why go through all of this? Were you even thinking about it?” Sam was incredulous.

“Hell, it was me that started the rumor,” John seemed pleased. “It was my way of seeing how you and Dean would react, Benny, too. I gotta say you all surprised me. Benny here continued on like nothing happened. Sam, you went out shopping around for possible buyers. Dean… you got yourself a lady. And might I say,” he looked at you, “nice right, darlin’.” He still had an amused look on his face. “Still not sure about you, but, I’m kind of impressed.” John took a moment to let his words sink in. “I’m not quite ready to let the Family Business go just yet. Maybe in a year or two… Dean, you’re my top choice.”

The vibe in the room had changed from anticipation, to shock, to anger, to disbelief. No one, not even Sam, would begrudge Dean the business. It was the way John had divulged his intentions.

Sam sat in silent fury wondering where he had gone wrong. He had been so careful… Jess stared ahead unseeing. Her plans for Sam had been dashed so quickly. Perhaps a new path would still get them to the governor’s mansion. Benny didn’t know what he expected from John. He suspected the rumors were untrue, but how could he have known that was John’s way of checking his interest in running the Family Business? He’d been working so hard… Laura sat watching her husband, wondering if she’d made a mistake all those years ago, and now it looked like Dean would get it all. What would happen to Benny when Dean found out what they’d done?

Dean’s knee-jerk reaction was to tell his dad off and to start his own business. There was no telling when he would actually hand it over. The Family Business had been his goal his whole life. If he said ‘no’ now, it might never be his. Did he want success on the coattails of his father, or was it more important to have success under his own name? His brain spun with the possibilities.

Making his decision, Dean said, “If you’re offering, I’m willing to talk. No more bullshit. If we do this, we start now. I’m not interested in being jerked around anymore.”

John sat cooly in his chair. His elbows on the arms, his hands clasped in front of his mouth. Things were not going quite as he’d expected. Dean bringing (Y|N) with him had thrown in a variable he couldn’t plan for. He’d tried to get her to leave and he’d ended up with a killer headache and a sore tooth. Now Dean was calling his bluff. He would just have to advance his plan.

After a quick search in his desk drawer, he found the business card he was looking for and closed the drawer. Leaning forward, the business card between his fingers, he held the card out for Dean.

“Give him a call at the beginning of the year and we’ll get on with it,” john instructed.

Dean left his spot by you on the couch to step between the two wingback chairs and take the card from John.

“Arthur Charles?” Dean read aloud and Sam stiffened in his chair. “Your lawyer is still alive? Jesus, he was old when I was a kid.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam didn’t care for Art and was still a point of contention between him and his dad, “he sure is.”

Dean looked from his father to his brother and back again, his own plan solidifying.

“Well. I think we’re done here,” John declared. “There’s still a lot of party to be had and I am far too sober for this shindig.” When no one moved, still stuck in the shock of the moment, “Get the hell out of my office.”

Dean stepped back and turned to you on the couch. He offered you his hands to pull you up from the couch. Tucking the card into his inside jacket pocket, he quickly led you out of the office like if he lingered too long, the dream would fade.

He walked with a purpose toward the main entrance. The space was quiet, only hints of the music from the floor above reached your ears. You noticed there were cars parked a short distance away, ready to pick up anyone ready to leave.

When he stopped, he didn’t turn. You both stood there with your backs to the door of John’s office. Dean’s eyes were wide and he almost looked scared.

“Did that really just happen?!” he asked.

You nodded, “Yeah,” feeling his trepidation.

“Like, really for real? Not some weird alternate universe mumbo jumbo?”

“Yeah!” it shocked you too.

“Holy shit.”

“Dean, you have everything you wanted,” you realized.

Dean looked down at your hand in his.

“I’m all set,” he said softly, his mind finally coming to rest. “You ready to go?”

You nodded. Dean slipped off his jacket and put it over your shoulders. The warmth of him was trapped in the jacket, warming you in the chilly entry. Putting his arm around you, he pushed open the first set of doors. Outside, the big SUVs were lined up, ready to take people home. One pulled up to the awning and Dean opened the door for you. The heat was blasing in the Excursion, but Dean was all you needed. You sat in the center, tucked into his side. Remembering the business card, you reached inside the tux jacket. Feeling the slick paper, you ended up pulling out the photos from the photo booth.

“You look so…”

“Happy? Loved?”

“I am. So happy. So…”

You looked up at him. The week had literally beat him up, but he still looked at you the way he did in the pictures. You put your hand on his jaw. His lips came to yours, filling you with the love he felt but always found so difficult to say.

They were nearly back to the house and Dean pulled out his phone and pulled up Sam’s name.

“Have a plan. Call me later,” he text.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Dean go to her mom’s house for Christmas, discussion of plans for the future, New Year’s Eve party at Ryan’s house.

“Nakatomi,” he said.  
From the corner of his eye, he could see her nod and go right for her suitcase. Unlike most chicks he’d known, (Y|N) packed light and was ready to leave almost as soon as he. He’d helped her out of her dress and it almost killed him to stop at that, but he didn’t want to make (Y|N) stay one moment longer. She zipped the garment bag and he grabbed it off the closet door.  
On the main floor, he remembered to grab his hoodie off the hook by the back door before they went outside to his precious Baby. She was covered in snow, but he got her cleared off quickly with (Y|N)’s help.  
“I’m driving,” she said.  
“Think so, huh?” It was hard to argue with her when she had her hands in his pockets. “You keep that up, we might have to go back inside.”  
She smirked, “You’ve barely slept in the last three days. You’ve been drinking tonight. I would be amazed if you still had the energy.”  
He pulled her close, “Baby, you would be amazed.”  
She found the keys in his front pants pocket. A small groan couldn’t be held back when her hand brushed against his growing arousal as she pulled the keys from his pocket. Standing on her toes, she grabbed a handful of his coat and kissed him. He swore he would never get tired of that.  
Her eyes opened slowly, a small smile touching her face, “You’re still a perv.”  
“It’s your fault,” he said.  
She let go of his coat and told him, “Get in.”  
He managed to navigate her out of town and onto the highway that led north. After that, he didn’t remember anything until the car door slammed shut. (Y|N) was outside at a gas station where she’d stopped to fill up. Lights were on inside and he saw her dash into the building out of the cold.  
When (Y|N) returned, he’d woken up enough to make his own run inside. She moved the car and was waiting for him in the passenger seat when he got back. She was still awake but exhausted.  
“Wake me up ten miles out,” she said.  
“Okay,” his voice was low.  
She slouched down in the seat, her head resting in the corner of the door and the seat, her arms crossed over her stomach. He, again, was so grateful. She’d been put through so much, at his request, and she still wanted him, still...loved him. That was probably the most shocking revelation to come out of the week with her. He’d always thought that the normal family life was something that just wasn’t in the cards for him. Now, he loved a mechanic who loved him back, wearing his grandmother’s ring. Best week ever.

Ten miles outside of town, Dean woke you up just as you’d asked. Your head hurt from resting on the Impala door so long. Rubbing your face, you tried to get your circulation going again and to wake up a little. By the time you reached the city limits, you were mostly awake, and feeling your face, enough to direct Dean to your mom’s house.  
If he was impressed, or otherwise, you couldn’t tell. The house was way too large for one person. Your parents moved into your grandma’s house, after she passed, and restored the home to its former glory. You were already an adult at that point and had no real room you’d claimed as your own, but your mom always insisted you take the largest room on the second floor.  
The lights on the house were off, but you could see that Louie, her maintenance man, had been busy. Both floors had exterior decorations. You could only imagine what your mother had done to the interior.  
Dean pulled the Impala into the driveway and you hopped out to punch in the code to open the garage door.  
“How many cars does your mom have?” Dean asked looking up at the building.  
The garage was actually a large steel building your grandpa had built years ago. At one point, you’d seen it hold an Airstream trailer and no less than 5 cars, not including their personal vehicles.  
“Two,” you answered. “One is a project I picked up from my dad. The other one is mine.”  
Your mom had moved her sports car out of the way in favor of the 4 wheel-drive SUV which left just enough room for Baby to fit inside. The light from the garage door opener didn’t show the actual expanse of the interior. What couldn’t be seen in the darkness, was the area that had been turned into a shop where your dad had worked on cars.  
When Dean was fully inside the garage, you got back out and closed the garage door. The noise of the door was amplified in the metal building, echoing badly. Dean got your bags out of the trunk but left the garment bags. You locked the exterior pass through door behind you as you went into the house through the side door.  
Your mom was expecting you, but she wasn’t up yet. She’d left on a few nightlights so you and Dean could find your way to ‘your room’ upstairs. Your mom’s room was on the main floor and opposite from the entrance, so there was little chance of waking her with your exhausted stumble through the house.  
“Nice house. Very… Christmassy,” Dean observed.  
“I know, you “don’t do Christmas,” but we do, a lot.” You were in your room stripping away your layers to get in bed; Dean was doing the same. “Can you tough it out?”  
Dean was moving slowly, watching you take off your sweatshirt to show your favorite band t-shirt underneath.  
“I think I’m starting to change my mind about Christmas,” he said, ogling you.  
You threw your socks on the floor and unbuttoned your pants. Dean was still watching you.  
“Yeah?”  
“Mhm,” he said staring. “I’m feeling all kinds of things.”  
You slipped off your pants, putting on a little show for him, rolling your hips and bending seductively to put your folded pants on the floor. You’d put on special Christmas underpants.  
He read the saying on them and asked, “Were you wearing those at the gala?”  
You smiled, “I wasn’t wearing any at the gala.”  
You reached up under your shirt and undid your bra, slipping the straps down your arms and out of the straps, eventually pulling it from under your shirt. Dean watched you the whole time, a look of awe on his face. You moved from your side of the bed to where he stood at his, not breaking eye contact.  
“You okay?” you asked, helping him take off his shirt. You pushed the flannel off his shoulders and pulled his t-shirt out of his jeans, moving to his belt.  
“I’m more than okay,” he answered, pulling off his shirt, letting it drop behind him. “I feel like the luckiest man alive.”  
You pulled his belt out. Taking a moment to appreciate what he said, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. No one had ever made you feel so important, so loved. You knew how lucky you were, too.  
Standing on your toes, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing him. His strong arms crushed you to his body as he kissed you back.  
“Do you really want to do this in your mom’s house?” he was breathless.  
“I want to make love to my future husband on Christmas,” you answered kissing him again.  
“I like the sound of that. Now about the mistletoe…” his hand traveled down to your ass, squeezing your soft flesh.

 

A couple hours later, the sun was up and you could hear knocking. At first, you couldn’t tell if you were dreaming. The knocking continued and the door remained shut. Cracking an eye open, it took you a second to remember where you were.  
“(Y|N)? Are you in there? (Y|N)?” more knocking. It was your mom. “Breakfast will be ready soon. Harry knows you’re here, I’m letting him in.”  
The door cracked open and you heard the skittering of his nails on the hardwood floor just before your sixty pound dog launched himself onto the bed, showering you with kisses and sniffs. When Harry noticed Dean, he stopped and barked loudly, scaring Dean awake.  
“Jesus! What the…?”  
A low rumble began in Harry’s chest. His ears laid flat and the hackles on his back rose.  
“Harry. Be nice,” you pet him. “Dean, this is Harry.”  
You waited but Dean still laid there silent.  
“You have to say ‘hi’ to him and let him smell you,” you told him the key to Harry’s good graces.  
Dean did what you said and after Harry and he got acquainted, Harry plopped down between you.  
“Hell of a way to wake up,” Dean noted. “What time is it? What’s going on?” he looked around the room.  
“It’s about 8:30 and we need to get down to breakfast,” you told him leaning in. “Merry Christmas.”  
“Merry Christmas,” he kissed you.

After taking the quickest shower you’d had in a long time, you, Dean, and Harry, went down to breakfast.

As you’d noticed on the way to your room, your mom had the house fully decorated for the holiday. Lighted garland and holly were everywhere. It actually looked quite pretty and cozy. When you got to the top of the stairs, the smell of breakfast met you and your stomach growled in answer. Harry took off ahead of you but Dean stopped at the landing. For a moment, he looked like a deer caught in the headlights.  
“What if she doesn’t like me?” he worried out loud.  
Oh my god, you are the cutest man ever, you thought.  
“You don’t have a thing to worry about. If she doesn’t, then too bad for her because you’re great,” you assured him. “I’m the one who loves you.”  
You pulled him down to hug you.  
“If you can survive your family, you can handle my mom,” you said into his neck.  
“Yeah, but my family are a bunch of dicks…” he let you go.  
“It’s just me ‘n mom. It won’t be too overwhelming. There’s more cousins and stuff, but not today,” you reassured him. “And, most of ‘em are nice. The ones that aren’t don’t come over anyway.”  
“How many of you are there?” he had a nervous look on his face.  
“Let’s go eat,” you said, heading down the stairs.  
“(Y|N)? How ma--,” he stopped, realizing the futility and followed you down the stairs. His need for food was more pressing than the amount of her extended family.  
Your mom was in the kitchen at the stove making pancakes, bacon, and hashbrowns. Coffee was brewed but your mom also had a Keurig.  
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” you said sleepily.  
“There you are! Merry Christmas!” she stopped what she was doing to hug you. “Did you get enough sleep?”  
“No, not really. We drove all night,” you said. “Mom, this is Dean, and he’s...my fiance.” It was so much harder to tell your mom, especially since you were kind of close. Telling Dean’s family had been more fun. Now, it was real, and so much different. “Dean, this is my mom, (M|N).”  
“Special friend, indeed,” she said in a knowing tone before extending her hand to Dean. When he took her hand, she welcomed him, “Nice to meet you, Dean. Well, this is quite the surprise!”  
“Uh, yes ma’am, nice to meet you, too,” he sputtered.  
“I hope you’re hungry,” your mom said to Dean. “Been a while since I cooked this much and I might have overdone it.” She indicated the mountains of pancakes, bacon, and hashbrowns.  
“It feels like forever since dinner last night,” you said. “I’m sure we can put a dent in this for you, Mom.”  
“I’m always ready to eat,” Dean agreed.  
You were sure your mother would have something to say, but she, at least, had the decency to save it for later when Dean wasn’t around. Dean, true to his word, dove into the plates of food and ate a large portion of the food your mom made all on his own. You had your fair share of food and were quite full when you and Dean cleaned up breakfast.  
During breakfast, your mother had asked Dean a million questions and he laid on the charm, which your mother ate up. She asked all of the expected questions. Instead of the b.s. You told Dean’s family, your mom got the truth. Her eyes flashed to you a few times and you knew she would corner you later. Dean yawned a few times and you told him to go grab a nap. If your mom was going to lay into you, you wanted to get it over with.  
“You gonna be okay?” Dean was no dummy. He’d seen (M|N) giving you the side-eye while they were talking.  
“Yeah,” you stood at the foot of the stairs with him. “It’s okay. It has only been a week...she worries.”  
He gave you a quick hug and kiss before leaving you to go lie down. Your mother had been waiting for her opportunity and walked into the living room with a cup of coffee. She sat in her recliner, quietly sipping her hot beverage until she heard the bedroom door shut.  
“Dean seems nice,” she said.  
“He is nice,” you agreed. The dance had begun.  
“Quite a change from Jack,” she sipped her coffee.  
“Jack is nice, too,” you defended. “Dean is a good man, mom.”  
“ONE week, (Y|N). You’re going to marry this guy after one week?!”  
“I knew Jack a couple years before we got together and look what happened there. Time has nothing to do with it. I never thought I would know who “the one” was, but I knew with Dean. He’s it, mom. I don’t want anyone else.”  
“You’re sure he’s not a rebound?”  
“Mom, Jack was years ago, and Dean is certainly not the rebound guy.”  
Your mother stared into her coffee for a while thinking things over. You gently rocked in the matching recliner, your dad’s recliner, while you waited for her to come to a decision about what to say next.  
“If you’re sure…”  
“I am,” you said firmly.  
“Okay,” she relented. “You’re an adult...I’ll try to like him.”  
“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you don’t already like him. He’s charming, smart, and hot as all hell.”  
Your mom gave you a slight tip of her head, smiling as she drank her coffee.  
“You sure know how to pick ‘em.”  
You rocked in your chair as her words sank in. She wasn’t upset about Dean. She had also liked Jack, until she didn’t…  
“Wait...what? You think Jack is hot, too? And Dean? I’m… what?!”  
“You always had cute boyfriends…”  
Feigning horror, you got up from your chair, “Oh...my god… I can’t even look at you now.  
You could hear your mother laughing all the way to your bedroom door. Harry’s nails were clicking on the floor as he followed. As quietly as you could, you let yourself and Harry into the room, closing the door behind you. Harry immediately went to sniff out the new guy a low rumble in his chest.  
Taking a spot on the floor, you sat with your legs crossed under you to talk to Harry.  
“Listen up, handsome,” you pet him. “I like Dean. He’s a good boy, just like you. Smart and loyal and won’t break my heart like your dad did,” you paused. “Try to like him, okay? He’s not a dog person, so don’t ruin his car. If you do, no more walkies or rides in my car.”  
Harry watched you as you talked, head tipping at ‘good boy’ and ‘walkies.’ He probably didn’t understand most of what you said, but you hoped he picked up on the high points. At least he quit growling. Getting up off the floor, he followed you to your side of the bed and laid on the floor while you got in next to Dean.  
“Did you just compare me to your dog?” his voice was muffled from the bedding and lying on his stomach.  
You laid on your side and rubbed his back, “No, of course not.”  
“Then why are you petting me?” he didn’t open his eyes.  
“Because… you’re such a good boy,” you were shaking, holding the laughter in.  
Dean grabbed you and pulled you to him, startling you with his speed and strength.  
“You’re a funny lady,” he cracked his eyes open.  
“I was only teasing. Besides, you don’t do that leg kick thing when I rub your belly,” you smiled.  
“You don’t know that,” he smirked, “I’m full of surprises.”  
“You’re full of something…”  
“How’d it go?” he asked.  
“She thinks I’m crazy, but willing to give you a shot,” you told him. “She agreed that you’re hot.”  
He chuckled, “Told ya, parents love me.”  
You weren’t going to remind him of his worry just a few hours before. His green eyes looked back at you lovingly, twinkling with mischief.  
“Marry me,” you whispered.  
“Nah. Now that I’m in with your mom…”  
He let out an ‘oof’ when you backhanded his belly, laughing at the same time. That smile of his would be your undoing.  
“Let’s get our ducks lined up quickly, okay?” you asked.  
“I know a guy. He’d do it tomorrow, but we’d have to go back to Kansas,” he said. His arm was draped over you, his fingers playing in your hair.  
“Oh god,” you laughed, “I think we need to let that whole mess settle a while. Not sure we could get back in the state.”  
“OK, then I vote we sleep and we’ll figure it out later,” his eyes were drooping. His long lashes weighing them down.  
Feeling sleep coming for you, you counted the freckles splashed across his nose and cheeks until you dozed off with him.

You spent all of Christmas and the next day with your mom. Dean seemed to be getting along with her just fine. Harry decided the new guy wasn’t too bad and began to warm up to Dean, especially since Dean would throw his ball for him.  
A few of your many relatives stopped by and a mini party got under way. You suspected your mom called a few to set it up. For the most part, they didn’t give Dean too hard of a time. They must have been in the Christmas spirit. However, that Christmas spirit, did not extend to you. Every embarrassing story from your childhood got brought up for Dean to enjoy at your expense. There wasn’t anything you couldn’t bear for him to know, though. By the time they all left, you’d had enough of family to last you for months.  
The next day, the 27th, you, Harry, and Dean said your goodbyes to your mom. You needed to get going because with Harry, it would take all day to get back home. Harry was all for going for a ride. He did his business and eagerly got in Dean’s car, on top of a thick quilt. Dean insisted on it to protect his Baby and your baby, he’d reasoned. You wouldn’t tell him just yet that you did the same thing in your car.  
Goodbyes all said, you and Dean got in the Impala and started for home. The only problem was, you didn’t know what ‘home’ was anymore. Was it your place? Dean’s? Would you trade off? There was a lot to discuss, including what to do about your future careers.  
“Dean?” you wanted for him to respond. He glanced in your direction and muttered a “hmm?”  
“Are we doing the right thing?” you asked.  
“Going home? Hell yes. I’m so done,” he answered, waving his hand.  
You squirmed in your seat while Dean drove, perfectly relaxed. His wrist was draped over the wheel. He looked so handsome in his peacoat and his perfectly styled messy hair. He hadn’t shaved since you left Bemidji and it only enhanced his features.  
“What? Do I got somethin’ on my face?” he noticed you staring and wiped at his new beard.  
“I was noticing your beard is lighter than your hair color.”  
“Oh, yeah,” he rubbed the beard absently, “I’ll shave it when we get back.”  
“You don’t have to,” you said. “I like it a lot.”  
Dean grinned at you, “Well, if the lady likes it, it stays.”  
“About home…” you hesitated. “How is that going to work?”  
Dean shrugged as he drove, “I guess I kind of assumed you’d be with me.”  
“And drive all the way across town to Chuck’s everyday?” you hedged.  
“Chuck’s? Does that mean you decided to keep working for him?” Dean was a little disappointed, but he could deal with it.  
You could hear the tone in his voice, but you had your reasons and explained, “Yeah, I hired almost everyone there. They’re a good group. I don’t feel good about leaving them unless I can get someone I trust to replace me.”  
He nodded, “What are you going to say to Chuck?”  
Dean wanted you with him, and you wanted to be with him at his place, too, but this had to be part of getting your ducks in a row.  
“It’s time that jerk got his own ultimatum,” you began. “I’ll give him six months and I pick a replacement. If I find someone sooner, I’m out. If he doesn’t accept my terms, I’m out.”  
“And then I get a new roomie?” he was hopeful.  
You laughed, “Yeah, not quite how I’d put it, though. You do realize Harry comes with, right?”  
Dean looked in the rearview mirror at the mention of Harry. The dog seemed to know he was being talked about and returned Dean’s gaze. It hadn’t escaped Dean’s notice that Harry was slobbering all over the windows in the backseat. He didn’t love Harry yet, but he did love (Y|N) and if that meant dog snot and slobber on his windows, he would learn to love Harry, too. Besides, as far as dogs went, Harry was cool. (Y|N) was right about him. He was just a big, playful dog who slept a lot.  
“Of course,” he said. “There’s plenty of room for him and a patch of grass out front.”  
You smiled at him but were silently hoping Chuck would accept your terms. Things were moving so fast and it was scaring you a little. You wanted everything with Dean, you just felt like you were being shot out of a cannon trying to get there.  
“What’s going on in there? Full-disclosure, remember?” he reminded.  
“Can we… slow down a little?” your voice barely audible over the powerful car engine.  
Dean slowed the car and you thought he didn’t understand what you meant. He pulled the car over to stop on the long, lonesome highway.  
“Sweetheart, I’m good,” he said, looking at you. “I’ll take us anyway I can get us, as long as there is an ‘us’. Not gonna lie, I want the dream, but not if it scares you away, okay?”  
He waited for you to answer. After you nodded, he put the car back in gear and continued on.  
“Now, tell me all about what you want in your garage,” he asked.  
There was so much that went into starting your own business. You’d scouted locations, gotten estimates on renovations vs. building new, equipment, etc. You had a vision of what you wanted, but you didn’t know how, or where, it would become a reality. Your mom’s garage was actually a good base for what you’d wanted, but if you took Bobby’s offer, you’d have a proper garage at your disposal and could maybe add on. Then again, you and Dean worked so well together, working with him in your own place would be great, too.  
You were about two hours into your drive and Dean wanted to stop for gas and a stretch. Harry did his thing when you walked around with him a little. You were soon back on the road, this time, you were behind the wheel. It was easy to see why Dean loved his car so much. She was powerful and responsive. Dean continued the conversation like you hadn’t even stopped.  
“So, looks like you have two options,” he said. “Which one feels most … right?”  
You shrugged. It had been something you struggled with for years. You’d only stayed with Chuck for so long because you couldn’t figure out what was best. The options you had tried were half-hearted or fell through. Your last try had failed miserably and it only told you that you were going down the wrong path.  
“Starting my own place was what I thought I wanted. I tried five times and was either shot down or the deals fell through. And, I must admit, when you told me about Bobby’s offer… I wanted to jump on it.”  
Dean was quiet for a few moments as he considered his options and how you would fit into his plan. He was leaning into the corner of his seat, partially supported by the door, his arm across the top of the seatback, his left leg resting on the seat. If a person could sit ‘cool’, it was Dean.  
“Alright, my turn,” he announced. “So, here’s what I’m thinking. My dad is going to give me the business, right?” He saw you nod. “No way is that happening without a catch. I just got the feeling that somehow this is going to bite me in the ass.”  
It seemed like a reasonable idea to believe. John had certainly proven he could be conniving.  
“What do you think he’ll do?” you wondered.  
“I don’t know,” his fingers flared out from resting on his temple. “It was almost too easy at the gala. His precious business of thirty years and he just agrees like that?” he snapped his fingers. “I don’t buy it. Something is fishy.”  
“Or he could just be ready to retire, like Bobby?”  
Dean gave you a look like maybe you’d suddenly gone insane.  
“Well, it’s possible,” you defended, knowing it was bullshit.  
“Nah, I’ll find it…” he meant whatever it was his dad was hiding.  
“How do you plan on running it? I didn’t know it was so huge. There were so many people…” you noted. “I know you did it before, but damn, it has to have grown since then.”  
“Benny. I figured he could keep running the brewery. He’s already doing it. ...I would oversee both sides…” he trailed off.  
“And the dealerships? You gonna make Bobby stay?” Your heart was in your throat. You knew what you wanted him to say. You thought you knew what he would say, but you had only really just gotten to know him over the last week.  
“I think Bobby only needs to stay long enough to get you trained,” he grinned. “What do you say, sweetheart, you up for it?”  
You were overwhelmed. Dean had a lot of confidence in you to offer something so monumental. He’d been coming to the garage for a year and had seen you working, but he couldn’t really know what you all did. He’d run the family business, though, and knew what all went into it… You weren’t sure you were up for it, but you were more than willing to try.  
Dean knew he was doing the right thing. (Y|N) loved cars and everything about them. She knew more about cars than he did, and Bobby liked her for at least part of the job. He’d suggested just the service department, but (Y|N) ran all of Chuck’s garage which was not a small job and he knew she was capable of handling the dealerships. Hell, even if she had trouble, Bobby wouldn’t be far and Dean would always help, too.  
“Look sweetheart, not to be a dick, but it’s a now or never situation here. Strike while the iron is hot. Shit or get off the po--”  
“I’m in,” you answered. “Let’s do this and show him just how bad he messed up not doing everything in his power to keep you around. I want to build cars Chuck never could imagine and make him beg me to come back. Let’s fuck up their worlds.”  
“Now we’re talkin’,” he grinned.

More time passed on the drive back to Bemidji. It was Dean’s turn to drive again. They’d just stopped to let Harry run around for a while and he was back in the backseat, more comfortable with some energy released. Deean pulled out of the parking lot and headed back to the highway. You’d been going for a little while when he needed to ask you something.  
“Are you going to be okay relocating?” you thought he looked worried. “You’ve got something going up here.”  
“So have you,” you countered. “You run the floor at your job. You create new blends. You have friends up here.”  
“Maybe we could expand at some point,” he mused. “But I think we need to make sure we’re good down there first… I could always keep my place up here so we could visit.”  
“I’m good with that,” you agreed.  
A few moments passed, the enormity of what was happening to your lives settled on both of you.  
He let out a sigh, “A week ago, I would never have dreamed this is where we would be now.”  
You looked over at him. His eyes were on the road still and he continued on like he was telling you a story. Like if he looked at you, he might not be able to say what he needed to say.  
“Just getting enough of a sack to ask you out… to do this… I’ve been living my life alone for so long, I’d just gotten used to it. I didn’t think I’d have someone to share my life with.”  
You honestly hadn’t either. Jack was the closest you’d gotten and that was years ago already. You weren’t unhappy on your own, your life was fulfilling. It wasn’t until you began imagining a life with Dean that you wanted to share it with someone. Dean seemed like a perfect fit for you. He didn’t want you to stop working; he wanted to work with you and encouraged you to keep doing it the way you wanted.  
You slid across the seat to sit next to Dean as he drove. Seeing you move, he put his arm on the back of the seat so you could get close and lean into him. Settling into his side, you pulled his arm down over you. Just the feeling of him being close gave you a sense of security you’d never had before. You were, finally, exactly where you were supposed to be.

 

When you got back to Bemidji, you went to Dean’s place. It was closer than your place and with as much as you loved his car, you couldn’t stand to be in the Impala a moment longer. You also knew you didn’t have a speck of food at your place, but Dean had all of those take out menus at his. Harry was good to go. Jack had bought a new bag of food for Harry’s stay with your mom, and she’d sent the bag with you and Dean.  
Once you’d decided what to order, you got in the shower while Dean placed the order. He joined you a few moments later, giving you a taste of what was to come later. Hes soapy hands ran over your body working the knots out of your back. His hands began to travel to other places.  
“Dean,” you gasped and fought to gain composure, “we have food on the way.” The water rushed over your body, rinsing the soap from you.  
“We’re picking this up later,” his voice deep and lusty. “Only ‘cause I’m starving.”

As soon as you cleaned up from dinner, you and Dean barely left his bed for the next two days. You couldn’t get enough of each other. There were times you could barely move after. Thank god and Scotty for delivery foods, otherwise you might not have made it.  
On the 30th, you finally left his loft and went to your place for clean clothes and Harry’s toys. Your apartment was over the office and parts storage room at Chuck’s garage. It was a small apartment, but it was open concept and didn’t feel as small as it was. Harry must have liked Dean because he kept bringing his toys to show him. Dean still wasn’t 100% on Harry, but he was trying.  
“I like your place,” he said, sinking down in your couch, “it’s cozy and this couch is my new best friend.”  
“Thanks. I think I’ll miss it when I do move out… eventually,” you said.  
Hearing your hesitation, “We can do it gradually. Bring clothes and bathroom stuff so you can have some at my place. Things for Harry. My apartment is nice, but it’s not a home. I want you to feel like it’s your place, too.”  
“You’re a good man, Dean Winchester,” you said to him.  
When your phone started ringing, you looked at the display. “Hey, Donna,” you said as you plopped on the couch next to Dean.  
“How long have you been back in town? Why haven’t you called me? Is that Impala Guy’s car at your place? What happened?” she blurted out, seemingly in one breath.  
“I’m doing fine, thanks for asking. How was your holiday?” you didn’t hide the sarcasm.  
Donna audibly sighed, “Whatever, woman. Give me the details! Is he at your place or did you steal his car? Was he a dick? Did you tell him I do Crossfit? Cuz the D-Train will hunt his ass down if necessary.”  
“Whoa! Let me talk, lady!” you stopped her. “We got back a couple days ago. We needed time to decompress before we ventured out again.”  
“We? What’s this ‘we’ business? He is there with you!”  
“Yes, and he’s sitting right next to me and can hear you, Donna!” you warned.  
“Okay,” she spoke softer. “What else? Tell me everything. Did you test him out?”  
“Donna!” you tried to be shocked, but you knew Donna too well to expect less.  
Dean looked at you, an adorable smirk on his face and popped his eyebrows.  
“Dean, could you take Harry for a walk or something?” you asked.  
“What, why?” he asked, “It’s cold out there.”  
“Babe, I need you to go so I can talk about you behind your back. Shoo,” you urged.  
“What’s wrong with my front?” he really didn’t want to go outside.  
“Not a damned thing,” you assured, “but go.” You kissed him and he grudgingly got off your comfortable couch to get Harry.  
“You gonna tell me what you said later?”  
“Nope.”  
He put on his coat and boots, rattled Harry’s leash, and the two of them took off.  
“I’m back,” you said to Donna.  
“Babe? You called him Babe.”  
By the time Dean got back, you’d told Donna what happened while you were on your trip with him. She ooh’d and ah’d at all the right spots. Donna did, however, have concerns.  
“You’re a nutbar, you know that? Do I need to put you in a padded room? How well can you possibly know this guy? And you’re going to marry this...this... stranger?! What’s his social security number?!” she was fired up.  
If hurt your feelings that your friend was upset with what you thought was happy news. You tried to cut her some slack with her being a retired cop, but it was hard. She also hadn’t liked Jack, not just because of what he’d done to you, but also because he had a criminal record.  
“You’re not running a background check on my fiance, Donna,” your tone warning her not to push. “Are you going to Ryan and Christina’s tomorrow night?”  
You could hear Donna sigh heavily before answering, “If I don’t, Ryan will probably have a fit.”  
You laughed, “Yeah, me, too.”  
“She has a lot of rage for someone so tiny,” Donna mused.  
“It’s her biggest party of the year. She literally spends all year planning it,” you said.  
“Okay, see you tomorrow. Hey, you tell him I do Crossfit!”  
“Bye, Donna!”

Dean heard most of the last part of their conversation.  
“Your friend sounds exhausting,” he commented. He’d only met Donna the one time at her donut shop.  
“She just worries about me and what she thinks is questionable judgement. She was horrified I was with Jack,” (Y|N) explained, “him being a criminal and all.”  
Had he missed her telling him that? She’d assured him he had nothing to worry about, but now he realized that hadn’t just meant Jack interfering. Hell, even he had spent a little time in jail…  
“Criminal?” he wondered just what was on his rap sheet.  
She sighed, “I don’t know everything on it. Drunk driving, weed, burglary, battery… Never me. I’m not excusing his club. It’s just the shit they got into. Booze fights. They stole stuff and I don’t know what else. Jack kept me out of it and I liked it like that.”  
“And that’s why he got you Harry,” he concluded.  
She nodded, “Only the guys in the club knew who I was and Jack wanted to keep me safe. That part of my life has been over for years, Dean.”  
She didn’t seem worried about it, so he supposed he could do the same. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect her, too.  
“Alright… what about this party and do I have to dress up,” he asked. Jack still was on his mind, but would simmer on the back burner for now.  
(Y|N) mentioned before that Ryan was having a party for New Year’s Eve. Once ‘party’ had been mentioned, he zoned out only catching bits and pieces. She gave him a look where he knew he’d been caught, but he was interested now, right?!  
This time, he listened intently and asked questions so he knew what he was getting into. Apparently, Ryan and her wife had this party every year. She didn’t spend all year preparing, but she did take time to test recipes for meals and snacks, and looked for the perfect decorations. She took time to create the ultimate music playlist to lead up to the big moment.  
“Ryan does put a lot of work in. I don’t have coattails.” This year’s theme was Gatsby. “I do have that tux.”  
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, it’s not really about the boys looking good,” her hand was on his leg now. “It’s a fabulous excuse for the ladies to look like a million dollars and wear tiaras.”  
He was on the middle cushion and wondered what (Y|N) would look like wearing nothing but jewelry draped over her body. Somehow, she swung her leg over his lap and straddled him, grinding against the hardness she felt there. He ran his hands up over her thighs, up her body, cupping her breasts with a gentle squeeze before wrapping one arm around her and pulling her down to his mouth with the other.  
Her mouth opened for him, eager for this to go further. After the two days they spent in his apartment, she still wanted more and he wanted to give her everything she wanted or needed. And he was beyond grateful that it was him she wanted.  
She broke the kiss first, going to the stereo and put some music on, loud. He watched her as she moved her body to the music and began removing her clothes. She looked good and wondered how she learned to move like that. She was making him harder than any stripper ever had.  
Her layers were gone, revealing the sexy lingerie he hadn’t known she’d been wearing.  
“Whoa,” he whispered.  
“Pants have to go, lover boy,” she said.  
Not one to be told twice, he was eager to be free of his jeans. She straddled him on the couch again. He could feel her heat hovering over him, his face between her breasts. The thin, lacy material left nothing to the imagination. Her nipples were hard, straining against the lace. His mouth went to her nipple, sucking and nipping at her through the material. (Y|N) raked her nails through his hair and he moaned as she did so. Her hips rolled, her sex sliding over the length of his dick. It was all he could do to keep from taking over. Finally, she sat on him, her folds wet with arousal, slid over him as she ground her hot, wet pussy on his cock.  
Her mouth covered his, kissing him deeply as she worked over him, so agonizingly slow. He was going to explode if she ever let him inside her. His hand were gripping her legs so hard, he worried about hurting her. If he was, she never let on…  
It was the sweet kind of pain that only enhanced the sed. Your juices were flowing, making Dean wet as you slid your sex over his hard shaft, increasing your arousal, but not giving him what he wanted to take from you. You needed to cum and be in control of him as you did so.  
He seemed to know what you were doing and was forcing himself to be completely compliant to you. His compliance only turned you on more. Raising your pelvis you reached between you. His sex twitching in your hand as you grasped him, lining him up with your entrance.  
You didn’t even let him fully inside you, instead you teased his head. Slowly up and down. You took off your bra and let Dean suck at your nipple. You started to move down his shaft, arching your back so his cock would hit just the right spot for your already engorged clit to push forward with each movement.  
“Jesus, I’m going to explode,” he gasped.  
“Don’t you dare cum before me,” you warned as you moved faster, taking more of his length into you.  
Dean growled, her hands all over him as she agonizingly took what she needed. He was all for it. He’d never been so hard before. Her hips had mercifully started moving faster. She was so tight and so wet and so perfect, he loved every second of her sweet torture.  
Finally, she found a rhythm to bring her to orgasm. Her walls tightened around him even more, then fluttered wildly as she came, screaming his name. Taking that as his cue, he came hard as she rode out her orgasm on him. He bit her collarbone as she pulled him deeply into her, his hips bucking with her as their orgasms calmed.  
“Holy shit,” you were both breathless as you tried to stand.  
“I don’t think I’ve cum that hard before. Not in a long time, anyway,” he said.  
“Me either,” you breathed heavily.  
“Not that I mind, but a little warning next time?”  
“Fair enough,” you agreed.

 

Fortunately, Ryan had told you what the theme for the New Year’s Eve party was ages ago and you had enough time to get the most amazing “Gatsby” dress made. It was a beautiful color that complemented your skin tone and fit like a glove. What made it special was the sheer fabric from the knee down. The tiara you’d selected was costume jewelry, but it was quite well done and gave the appearance of real diamonds.  
Dean did not have coat tails, but he was all for looking for a walking stick, spats, and a top hat. You tried to get him to go for gloves, but he shut you down hard.  
“Not a chance, sweetheart. That’s where I draw the line. I’m not some schmuck that wears gloves.”  
You’d tried a couple places for spats, but they were also a no-go. Dean was ready for the party with a top hat and walking stick. He looked great, but he kept humming “Puttin’ on the Ritz.” The humming was tolerable, it was the blurting out the catch phrase like Igor from Young Frankenstein that really grated. He snickered every time.  
“You’re so funny,” you mumbled.  
“I’m hilarious,” he grinned broadly at you. When you didn’t smile back and rolled your eyes at him, he continued. “Oh, c’mon, that was funny.”  
“Sure, it was funny… the first few times…” you trailed off, “but you’re no Mel Brooks.”  
Dean was taken aback. “You’re no Mel Brooks,” he sputtered.  
“Oh, sweet baby boy, you are adorable,” you said, patting his cheek.  
Still a little miffed, he said a quiet, “Thank you” as he pulled into the drive to Ryan and Christina’s house.  
The house looked beautiful, as expected. Their home was an enormous farm house that Ryan and Christina completely renovated after they got married. They’d made it an open floor plan with white walls and wood floors. The decor changed often for sparks of color or new interior design.  
“You didn’t tell me you have fancy friends,” Dean stopped at the valet stand.  
“I don’t have fancy friends. I have Ryan and Christina,” you said, getting out.  
Dean hesitated a moment and let the valet take his car before joining you.  
“They however, have fancy friends, so be cool and don’t hurt anyone with that,” you indicated the walking stick Dean was using in an overexaggerated way.  
“I’m always cool,” he gave you a charming grin. He would probably charm the hell out of everyone. He was good at that. Your mom even text you her approval and not just because she found him attractive. He made her laugh and he played into her narcissistic tendencies. But, she did mention that he said nothing but the most glowing remarks about you, which she loved (because she raised you that way).  
Inside, Ry had outdone herself. Everything sparkled or shone in the light. She’d dimmed the house lights to look like candle light and the effect was stunning. The music, you assumed, from the 20s was playing over the stereo. Other guests had already arrived and were chatting with Ry and Christina.  
You and Dean were taking off you coats when Ry spotted you and came over. She wore a fitted, and beaded flapper dress that must have been heavy as hell. Her head band matched her dress and was worn in the style of the day. Even her shoes were a spot-on match to the era. The beads that hung from the hem of her dress jostled as she moved and you almost wished yours had similar beading.  
Seeing your look of awe as she came over, she paused to do a little jig, turning her ankles out like a flapper would do. She gave Dean a quick glance before she pulled you down for a hug.  
“You look amazing, you leggy bitch,” she said, admiring your dress.  
“Everyone is taller than you, Ryan,” you returned.  
“And who is your ‘plus one’?” she asked, as if she didn’t know exactly who Impala Guy was.  
“Ryan, this is my fiance, Dean Winchester,” you formally introduced them. “Dean, this is Ryan Dalton.”  
“Ryan Dalton? Like the sci-fi writer?” he asked, extending his hand.  
“Oh honey, there’s no ‘like’ about it. That’s exactly who I am,” she took his hand.  
Watching the realization dawn on the faces of fans was one of Ryan’s favorite things to witness.  
“I always thought you were a dude,” he commented.  
Ryan laughed, “Guys usually do. Women were writing science fiction long before men.”  
“No disrespect intended,” he said. “I love your books. Like the part when they were looking for Ace and the world changed around them? So cool,” he gushed.  
“Looks like you have another fanboy, Ry,” you chimed in. “Are Steve and Tab coming this year?”  
“They were here first, actually. I’ve already had the talk with him,” she rolled her eyes. “You, too?” she glanced at the walking stick Dean had.  
“Yeah. Fingers crossed,” you sighed and crossed your fingers.  
You and Dean talked with Ry a few moments longer before more guests arrived and she had to excuse herself. You showed Dean around a little and stopped to talk to a few people you’d met from one of Ry’s other parties.  
“Who are Steve and Tab?” Dean asked. “Fancy writer friends?”  
“Yeah, you could say that,” you answered. “Ryan gives Steve technical advice when he needs it.”  
“Technical advice?”  
“Ryan was a forensic lab technician in her former life. When the books started being more profitable, she stopped doing that work,” you explained how Ryan and Steve knew each other.  
You showed Dean the restroom and were the food and drinks were located. You’d already had dinner for the night and your dress was feeling the strain of the holiday. Dean, however, felt no such strain and tried a sample size of each of the appetizers, snacks, and treats Ryan had amassed for the party.  
“Are you going to eat all of that?” you asked, amused. You still couldn’t figure out where he put it all. He had the metabolism of a damned hummingbird.  
“Yup,” he said through a mouthful of...something. “This stuff is awesome.”  
You put your hand on his chest and reached up to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to go talk to some friends. Will you be okay on your own?”  
“Oh yeah, I’m good,” he kept chewing. “Nice touch getting my beer in here.”  
“She must like it, otherwise it wouldn’t be here,” you told him and meant it. “Ryan has great taste.”  
“Obviously,” he agreed, taking a gulp of his beer. “That wife of hers…” he whistled.  
You backhanded his chest.  
“Hey!”  
Dean backpealled quickly, “I was just agreeing she has good taste. Her best friend is hot as hell. Clearly, she has the best taste.”  
“And don’t you forget it,” you warned.  
He smiled at you and leaned down to kiss you, the taste of crab rolls still on his lips.  
“No, ma’am,” he grinned. “I know what’s good for me.”

Hate to see her go, love to watch her walk away, he thought. He’d finished the appetizers on his plate and decided to take a stroll through the main floor, walking stick in hand. He’d not been too enthusiastic about getting prettified for the party, though he did have to admit, the top hat and walking stick made him feel like a high-class hero. He found a room that wasn’t quite so full of people. Someone was in the center of a group. Dean got a little closer, but couldn’t see who it was. Instead, he turned to see what books Ryan and Christina had on their shelves. She had some cool statues and some flower holder thingies. They were so sparkly…  
“Hey! Neat walking stick, I have one just like it,’ a man was standing next to him. He wore outdated glasses and had a slightly disheveled appearance despite the formal occasion.  
“You’re… you’re…”  
“Steve. How are ya?”  
Dean,” he held up his walking stick.  
“Say, that’s really neat. You know, it reminds me of one I had for a scene I wrote,” Steve commented.  
“That’s so cool. You know, I want to keep swinging it around…”  
“...like a sword,” Steve said knowingly.  
Dean stood back slightly. Steve followed suit, a mischievous look on his face.  
“En gard,” Dean raised his walking stick.  
Steve turned out to be more aggressive than he had expected. The older gentleman put up a good fight and knocked Dean’s “sword” into the bookcase, unarming him and sending a vase toppling to the wood floor. The sound of shattering crystal brought the quick stops of three somewhat angry women.  
“Oh shit,” Steve mumbled. “Be cool.”  
Three faces stared them down. Christina quickly assessed what happened and did her best to hide her smirk. She turned away and went to get the dustpan and broom. Dean wasn’t worried about Ryan, he was more concerned about the look he was getting from (Y|N).  
“Steve. You promised,” Ryan scolded her friend.  
Steve only just dared to look at Ryan, “Sorry, Ry. I’ll buy you a new one. But, hey, I beat the kid.” Steve shrugged, holding up his walking stick as though there were a bright side to the situation.  
Dean took the broom from Christina to help clean up the mess he had helped create.  
“Don’t worry about it too much, handsome,” Christina held the long handle of the dustpan. “It’s not a party until something unexpected happens,” she winked at him.  
“I swear I told him to be careful,” you looked at Ry and neither one of you could hold the giggles anymore. You turned away from the scene of the crime.  
“Oh my god, the looks on their faces,” tears were building in Ryan’s eyes, still stifling her laughter.  
“The shock! The ‘O’ face when they got busted,” you gasped, keeping yourself from a full laughter breakdown.  
You stayed turned away from them so they wouldn’t see your amusement. Everyone had gone back to dancing, drinking, and eating. When Dean finished cleaning up, he met up with you again and stuck to your side.  
Donna had arrived after the ‘sword’ incident and seemed to be in a good mood. She looked amazing in her Gatsby garb. She also had a few questions.  
“So, ah… Dean, is it?” Donna began. “If that is, indeed, your real name…”  
Dean’s eyes got a little wider and gave Donna a look of his own in return.  
“Tell me… what are your intentions with my girl, here?” she tipped her head in your direction.  
“At this party?” he asked. Donna gave him a ‘really?’ look. “Oh, you mean in general…” he looked to you for help, but you just looked back at him. Donna wanted to hear it from Dean, and you were a little curious, yourself. “Um...well.. I’m going to get the business, get it on track, she’s gonna finish up with Chuck, we’ll get married, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure she knows how much I love her. I promise,” he looked at you. “I would never do anything to hurt her.”  
“I suppose you’ll be taking her to cussin’ Kansas?”  
Dean nodded, he hadn’t heard it called that before.  
“Yeah, eventually. That’s where the main business is. (Y|N) will be running the dealerships and her custom work.”  
Donna still eyed him carefully. A sheen of sweat was about to form on Dean’s forehead.  
“Ever been in trouble with the law? Go to Juvie? Got a record? Speeding tickets? OWI?”  
“Nothing I’m willing to discuss without a warrant, Officer Hanscum,” Dean retorted.  
“Oh, got something to hide, huh?” Donna scrutinized his face, not missing a thing.  
“I thought you retired,” Dean quipped. The two both seemed to be enjoying the verbal sparring match.  
“Once a cop, always a cop,” she gave him a ‘friendly’ jab to the shoulder.  
“Well, now I’m curious. What skeletons are in your closet, Donna?” he sipped at his beer.  
“I’m the one asking the questions,” she said. “(Y|N) likes the bad boys… Better not have any trouble from ya. You may be bigger, but I do Crossfit.”  
“Oh my god, Donna,” you couldn’t believe the conversation you were witnessing.  
“Do you? What gym? That looks cool,” Dean didn’t take the bait. “Is there a gym in town?”  
Since you had nothing more to contribute, you excused yourself as you knew they would fall into a rabbit hole of conversation. You got enough of a work out hauling parts around all day. And, working in a garage was all of the sweating you wanted to do in a day. Ever since Donna started Crossfit, it was all she talked about. When they named a circuit after her (the D-Train), you wanted to go down to the gym and wring their necks.  
Thinking that it was time to get a drink, the liquor kind, you went to where the bar was set up and got yourself a tall one. By the time Dean found you again, you’d talked to several guests and had a plate of Ry’s delicious apps. You hadn’t sat down all night and your feet were very angry with you. You and Christina were having a good laugh at Deans and Steve’s expense.  
“No, really,” Christina assured you, “It’s not a big deal. Steve will replace it and probably get us something to go with it. I told Ryan he would break something.”  
As far as you knew, this was the first time Steve and Tab had come for the NYE party. You weren’t able to always go to the summer celebrations that he and his wife usually attended.  
“Does it happen often?” you wondered.  
Christina rolled her eyes, “Almost every time!”  
“Hello, ladies,” Dean sounded so smooth.  
“Hello, sir,” Christina openly admired your future husband. “You always look this sexy?”  
“Don’t objectify me,” he tried to sound upset, but his eyes were twinkling. He liked attention from the voluptuous redhead. “...and...yes, I do.”  
Christina looked at you, grinning.  
“It’s true, he does. It’s annoying,” you agreed.  
Dean’s gaze had fallen on you and if Christina was still there, you didn’t notice. If there were ever any question who it was Dean had eyes for, it was answered in that moment. Your breath caught in your chest as he moved closer. You couldn’t move and you didn’t want to. It was only a step or two, but it felt like more, the seconds passing like minutes. His arm slipped under yours to pull you close. His lips pressing to yours. His lips parted, his tongue grazing your lip. Parting yours, you deepened the kiss with him.  
“How ‘bout we go home?” his voice husky in your ear.  
“We have to stay until midnight,” you said.  
He nodded and as though reading your mind, “I don’t want anyone but you, sweetheart.”  
You hadn’t realized how late it was when the people behind the bar started pouring champagne. Ryan called out for everyone to grab a glass and Christina went to the other areas to spread the word.  
Champagne glasses in hand, you stood with Dean, your arm around his waist, his around your shoulders. Ryan turned on the TV and the sound played on the whole house audio system. Dean, you knew, was rolling his eyes at the sight of Seacrest and just wanted to go home. But, you also knew he was staying for you and to make a good impression with your friends. You had no problem exploiting that.  
As the countdown began, Dean didn’t wait for the final drop and leaned down to kiss you. His tongue soft but firm against yours, taking control. He always surprised you with how he could take your breath away.  
“Happy New Year, beautiful,” he said for your ears only.  
The ball had dropped and if the guests weren’t cheering or using their noisemakers, they were kissing their significant others like you and Dean had.  
“Happy New Year,” you said back. The two of you gulped the nearly forgotten champagne so you could find your hosts and say your goodbyes. They were still in their NYE kiss, very much like you and Dean had been.  
“Whoa,” he stopped, ogling them. “That’s hot.”  
“Easy, perv-o,” you said.  
“What? Your friends are hot. Tell me that’s not hot,” he scoffed.  
You could not but glance at your friends, “They’re my family, so… yeah, sorry, it’s like watching my sister kiss…” you struggled for a comparison. “...just ‘no’.”  
You looked around and spotted another couple, “There’s Drew and Castin. Yeah, now that’s hot.”  
Dean looked to follow your line of sight, “Oh really? What else gets your motor runnin? So not your bestfriend and her wife, but ... other chicks?” He needed to know all the juicy details.  
“Would you stop?” you were starting to feel warm.  
“That’s not a ‘no’,” he fist pumped. “Yes?”  
“Yes, okay? Shut up, they’re coming over.”  
He sighed, “It’s like Christmas again.”  
“Hey, are you guys ready to head out? The party’s just getting going,” Ryan tried to get you to stay.  
“Yeah, i think we’re gonna go,” you tried to sound apologetic. People were, in fact, dancing and if you’d been closer, you might have heard all of the bead work jostling to the music.  
Dean was holding your hand to keep you from trying to stay. You’d been cheated out of a dance at the gala and it was happening again. For as much as you wanted to stay, your feet told you it was time. Boots were your usual footwear of choice and a necessity for your job.  
“It was very nice to meet you, both,” Dean said in his most charming tone. “Sorry...again… about the glass thing.”  
“Don’t worry about it. It’s already forgotten. Steve, however, knew the house rules,” Ryan assured. “Just, please, if you come to the 4th of July party, do not set off any fireworks with him.”  
Dean suspected there was a story there. Under different circumstances, he would have asked about the need for the house rules, but (Y|N) was ready to go and he’d had enough of parties.  
“You got a deal,” he chuckled.

 

Before the party, you’d brought a few things to Dean’s place, a bag for you and a bag for Harry. So when you went to his place after the party, you things were already there and you felt slightly more at home there. Dean took a drowsy Harry outside for a quick trip and was back by the time you found a good radio station.  
It was nice to be in a quiet place with Dean. Your feet had gotten a short rest on the rade back but they still felt like they were on fire. You sat on the couch cushion edge to take off your shoes. Dean had taken off his jacket and tie, tossing them on the back of the couch as a light snow began to fall outside. The soft music filled the space and you could feel the exhaustion coming for you.

It’s late at night and we’re all alone  
Just the music on the radio  
No one’s comin’, no one’s gonna telephone  
Just me and you and the lights down low.

Dean stood in front of you, offering his hands to help pull you up from the couch. Taking his hands, you reluctantly left him pull your feet and you noticed he’d taken off his shoes and socks, too.  
“I believe I owe you a dance,” he said, taking you to the open space between the sleeping area and livingroom. There was no rug on the cement floor there and you moaned with pleasure at the cold feel of the floor on your sore feet.

And we just flow together when the lights are low  
Shadows dancing across the wall  
Music’s playin’ so soft and slow  
Rest of the world so far away and small  
He pulled you into his arms, practically supporting you, swaying with you to the music.

“Steve said something to me about you,” he began. Looking up at him in question, he continued, “He said real love is when you don’t go looking for it; it finds you and if you can be silent and still want to be with your someone, hold onto her.”

As we dance together in the dark  
So much love in this heart of mine  
You whisper to me, hold you tight  
You’re the one I thought I’d never find  
“You’re stuck with me now, cuz I’m never letting go,” his breath was warm on your ear.

“I love you so, so much,” you tightened your hold on him.  
When we’re slow dancin’, swayin’ to the music

Slow dancin’, jut me and my girl  
Slow dancin, swayin’ to the music  
No one else in the whole wide world  
Just you and me, girl.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader tells Chuck her plan. Harsh realities of taking over Family Business come to light. John will not go quietly. Reader is experiencing some anxiety about how much of Dean’s time is for her.

###  [ kazosa kazosa.tumblr.com ](https://kazosa.tumblr.com/)

  

Edit appearance

[ ](https://kazosa.tumblr.com/)

# Kazosa's Obsessions

I post what I like. Sometimes I write things.

 

 

A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement - Part 8

  


**Summary:**  All you wanted was to use your skills in automotive engineering and design to open your own custom car shop. When the rug gets yanked out from under you, one of your regular customers offers you a job that you just can’t resist. Will it stay a mutually beneficial arrangement, or will something unexpected bloom?

**Pairing:**  AU Dean Winchester x Reader

**Appearances by:**  Sam, Jess, John, Chuck, Garth, Adam, Donna, Jack, Harry

**~~~~~~~~Chapter Synopsis:**  Reader tells Chuck her plan. Harsh realities of taking over Family Business come to light. John will not go quietly. Reader is experiencing some anxiety about how much of Dean’s time is for her.

**Word count:**  11420

**Warnings:**  Bad language. Alcohol consumption. Fluff. Anxiety triggers.

**A/N:** Girl code does not apply here, because the reader said it was okay, so don’t get mad at me.

**[Masterlist](https://kazosa.tumblr.com/post/181625909380/a-mutually-beneficial-arrangement-summary-all) **

**Tags:[@31shadesofbrown](https://tmblr.co/mPXBHBha3wFLYJ823mvIidQ)  [@xhannahbananax03](https://tmblr.co/mddp3jQtBDMF6jSaLoeIVBw)  [@closetspngirl](https://tmblr.co/mOdlI--0mx6o5gmtkwxMXYA)  [@adoptdontshoppets](https://tmblr.co/mVLGyObum79paa-ECIJPkIw)  [@parinarain](https://tmblr.co/mERptP0LQNKteXSD49wDx8w)  [@babykalika2001](https://tmblr.co/m7TvrnlRZ7sF4cvXCL4jrCg)  [@docharleythegeekqueen](https://tmblr.co/miO3knxzjnR05Z7ojBt4eEg)  [@22sarah08](https://tmblr.co/m7BhYr-hp3D41gHL-6rAF9Q)  [@flamencodiva](https://tmblr.co/mw6DSHP6G1vpP7li5LmR6CQ) ** **[@deans-baby-momma](https://tmblr.co/mOMGNHnLXSdg5xhSPsm6K2A)  [@collette04](https://tmblr.co/mT7zFrL-uywQSLhCxfj5Hyw)  [@maralisa124](https://tmblr.co/mS6anPKesGyyjDzmhs52ygQ)  [@mml232](https://tmblr.co/mJ24dJs-5BKdKnCrmrXB63w)  [@sympathyforluci](https://tmblr.co/mNjEwORtpPuh67u123UsKOg)  [@superthingsilike](https://tmblr.co/m0x3_j12alal5AIT1-ZQkVw)  ** **[@collinsstanharbour](https://tmblr.co/moWlXU_tkFGl50_6o7QzSDQ)  ** **[@jxnnxbrxwn](https://tmblr.co/m9W2_n__5f7URIwrfHMOlBQ)  ** **[@winchest09](https://tmblr.co/mol31f-IXWixQaVvsftVbuw) ** **[@sandlee44](https://tmblr.co/mIQwqt4Uq5B3QMj6tLWB5VQ)  ** **[@screechingartisancashbailiff](https://tmblr.co/msu1sWK3cDGgT53E3WgqGOA)  ** **[@theconfusedcat](https://tmblr.co/m1Li4EQ7J8lGVpGZ7kxp44Q)  ** **[@perpetualabsurdity](https://tmblr.co/mVuI4Y4qU_6TL5g-6ShiWpw)  ** **[@spnhollis](https://tmblr.co/mt0QZCca5xBBlgpU8oObt9g)  ** **[@squirrelnotsam](https://tmblr.co/mjt7qWuD4a9GqAPGst8Wp8g) [@cosicas-cuquis](https://tmblr.co/mlkG9cNHCJAEaKdC5eSQ6fw) [@coffee-obsessed-writer](https://tmblr.co/mNrULVCawVWW5RI51xvQsLA)  [@sorenmarie87](https://tmblr.co/mb_y1Lsymulr26DsEjd9Ssg)  [@his-paradox](https://tmblr.co/mpvWgK3maUqScrMDaIAezUg)  [@geeksareunique](https://tmblr.co/mrwMU-N1eyWBqA1K5ic9qWQ) **

     On the morning of January 1st, you woke far too early for your liking. You weren’t completely hungover, but you were definitely not enjoying the bright sunlight shining on the new snowfall.

     “Next time we decide to get trashed, let’s crash at my place,” you suggested.

     “Don’t like the floor to ceiling windows?” Dean was already lying on his stomach, head turned away from the offending light.

     “I don’t know how you do it,” you pulled the pillow over your head to shield your eyes and look at your phone for the time. Nine a.m. You had an appointment with Chuck at one p.m. and you needed to get your head right for it.

     “It’s a gift,” he said.

     You ran your hand down his shoulder, back, and over the curve of his ass. His skin rippled with goosebumps at your touch.

     “Mmm, don’t start something you can’t finish, sweetheart,” he warned. “You gonna go do the thing?”

     “Yeah,” you groaned. Staying in bed with Dean seemed like a much better day than seeing Chuck. You needed to deal with your cousin and his duplicitous ultimatum. There were things you needed to say and the prick was going to listen, whether he liked it or not.

     “I’m going to go over to my place, get cleaned up, kick his ass,” you said.

     “That’s my girl. Give ‘em hell,” his voice was muffled. “I’ll be by later.”

     “OK,” you said. “I’m taking Harry with me.” Harry perked up at the sound of his name. He’d taken to sleeping on the floor… on Dean’s side.

     Dean reached his arm over the edge of the bed to scratch Harry’s ears.

     “Harry,” he got the dog’s attention. “Scare the shit outta Chuck. Keep her safe,” he instructed. “Got it?”

     You’d gotten out of bed and witnessed the whole exchange. Harry laid his head on the bed, giving Dean a lick in answer. After that moment, Harry was at your feet and stayed with you.

     “Good boy,” you heard Dean say just before the sounds of soft snoring drifted to your ears.

    You and Harry drove home in your Altima hybrid. Dean had insisted that when you drove it to his place, you had to park in the garage. You gave him shit about being ashamed of you and he said it was because you needed a proper car. Of course, you had other cars, but you weren’t quite ready to show him everything.

     Parking in your usual spot outside your garage, you and Harry took the outside stairs up to your apartment. If Dean knew what you were keeping in the garage, he would be so proud, but you were saving that for a special occasion.

     At precisely one p.m., you walked into the office. Chuck was sitting at your desk and had his feet kicked up on the corner, hands clasped in his lap, waiting for you. It may have, technically, been his office, but it was  _your_  desk, and you didn’t like the look of him there.

     “I almost had to wait,” he said as you walked in.

     Harry stood in front of you. His ears were back and a low, continuous growl began in his chest.

     “Why did you bring that dog? He hates me,” Chuck whined.

      “Because he hates you,” your answer was simple.

     “I don’t understand this vitriol you feel the need to lash upon me. I’m offering you a job and this is what I get in return?” Chuck didn’t understand.

    “I’m just shocked you know the meaning of ‘vitriol’,” you continued to stand across from him with your hands behind your back. 

     “I know you like to think you’re so much smarter than me. You have a job, a place to live, and are paid well because of  _me_.  _I_  helped  _you_  let’s not forget that.” Chuck always tried to make himself seem more than what he was.

     It was hard to believe that Chuck was actually as clueless as he seemed. You never could tell if he was just playing you or if he really was that oblivious.

     “I have a contract here,” he went on, “that is similar to your previous one. Take a look over it and sign and I’ll try to forget how rude you are.”

     You glossed over the year-long contract, not terribly interested in what he put in there.

     “I’ll give you six months from today. June 30th is it. You’ll give me a 10% raise and I will hire my replacement,” you countered.

     “You’re in no position to be negotiating with me. I let you live upstairs for  _free_  and you want a raise?!” Chuck’s voice was changing pitch, bordering on shrill.

     “Chuck, you are a dimwitted asshole. I’m here only because my mom asked me to help you. Your garage was so deep in the toilet, I didn’t know if I could save it. For years, I made ends meet with the pittance you paid me, took care of  _ **everything**_  and worked after hours. You’ve been able to take vacations because of me. I don’t think six months is unfair. I’m not signing a contract and if you continue to be a dick to me and my employees, I walk.”

     “Your employees?!”

     “Yes. I hired them all. With any luck, they’ll take my lead and follow, because I’m a leader, Chuck. You’re just the colossal douche that signs their paychecks. Six months. Take it or leave it,” you were only giving the notice because you cared about the people that worked for you.

     Chuck considered his options and you knew you had him. Coming to the same conclusion, Chuck stood and reached over the desk to extend his hand to you. Harry voiced his opinion on Chuck trying to touch you and didn’t stop him barking, making Chuck jump back half a step.

     If you hadn’t closed the office door, you might have noticed the man lurking outside. Instead, the door burst open and a tall, handsome Scotsman entered the office, effectively filling the space with both his size and voice.

     “What the hell is goin’ on in ‘ere?!” Jack bellowed.

     With Harry’s continued barking, the office door clanging, and Jack’s voice, your ears were beginning to ring.

     “Harry! Down!” you yelled over the noise, and Harry stopped barking, but the growl returned.

     “You need anything, lass?” Jack asked you, but was glaring at Chuck.

     “I can take care of myself, Jack,” you stood between the two men. Chuck looked like a scared child, but his jaw was set in defiance. You turned quickly to Jack, putting your hands on his chest, gently pushing him back.

     “I know ye can, lass, but I owe ye one,” he said for your ears only. When you shook your head, his volume increased for the benefit of Chuck’s ears. “Maybe me ‘n the lads can take care of the wee prick once ‘n for all!”

     You were going to start laughing if you didn’t get Jack out of there soon. Behind you, you could hear Chuck making small squeaking noises and was beginning to sputter with mock rage.

     “I am an important man in this town!” Chuck’s voice had reached full-shrill.

     “You’re not even an important man in this room! Even Harry has more balls and he ain’t got any, ye fuckin’ twat,” Jack went on.

     You pushed your former lover out of the office. He didn’t resist you but he would have killed Chuck if you let it escalate.

     “Get that…that….that  _ruffian_  out of my office!” Chuck was suddenly braver now that you were removing the threat for him.

     You patted Jack’s chest to move him back through the door. Your face felt hot from trying not to laugh out loud. With Jack safely outside the office and out of sight, you went back in to collect your other boy, still standing guard.

     Chuck had finally found the ability to move again. He looked like he might cry and a sheen of sweat had formed on his brow. He staggered the 3 feet back to the chair and flopped down.

     “Holy shit,” he whispered. He had his arm on the arm rest, holding his head.

      You let Chuck have a moment to catch his breath.

     “Harry, out. Go to Jack,” you told your good boy and Harry did as you asked but let out a muffled bark first.

     “Oh!” Chuck’s hand went to his chest. “God!” 

     “Stop it. You’re not dying,” you groaned.

     Chuck sat forward, reached in the bottom drawer and pulled himself three fingers of rotgut.

     “Why do people hate me?” he asked after a gulp. “Even you hate me. People love you though. How do you do it?”

     You had made it to the door and stopped to answer him.

     “I’m a nice person, Chuck, that’s it. So if I’m a dick to you, you need to ask yourself what you did to deserve it.”

     You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Without another word, you stepped out and slammed the office door behind you.

     Jack wasn’t too far away. When he saw you coming, he held out his arm to you and you put your arm around his waist. He slung his arm over your shoulders while you watched Harry play in the snow and Jack smoked.

     There was no way you were going to work that day and hadn’t bothered to put on your work clothes. Jack was wearing the quilted flannel and wool coat you’d bought him. He’d complained once about your down-filled coat being too bulky and you’d reminded him he didn’t need to hold onto you like something to possess, and he’d never done it again. Instead, he draped his hand over your shoulder and you held his hand there.

     “That was fun, lass,” he commented. “Miss stirrin’ shit up wi’ ye.”

     The ‘shit’ found you more than it was ever stirred up by you. In your time with Jack, you found out what you were made of. You could easily have walked that path with him if not for a promise you’d made to your dad. That was part of why you would stay behind when Jack was out with the club. It had killed you not to be with him but your promise, and Jack’s wanting to keep you safe, had kept you away.

     “Chuck’s in there shitting his pants,” you both chuckled.

     A few moments passed before the thing that had been weighing on Jack’s mind needed to be asked.

     “Is he good to ya, yer new lad?” he needed to know. “Does he make you happy?”

     The oddness of the situation was not lost on you.

     “He really is a good man, Jack. He makes me happy. We’re going to be going back and forth to Kansas, so Harry will need to be with you more or stay with me.” You already felt bad for handing Harry off to him again and so soon after he got back from Scotland.

     “Whatever you need, lass,” he said.

     “Thank you,” you were relieved he wasn’t pressing further about you and Dean.

     He let go of your hand and turned you to him.

     “No, I mean it, (Y|N),” his voice sounded strange saying your name. “You need anything at all, you call me. Got it?”

     His serious tone concerned you but you nodded. He took your face in his hands and pulled your forehead to his lips before a quick hug.

     “I’m happy for ye, lass,” he smiled.

     “Really?”

     He nodded, “Aye.”

     “Tell me about this woman you’re seeing,” you were dying to know. He’d dropped that nugget on you just before Dean had asked you to make the mutually beneficial arrangement.

     “‘Nother time, luv,” he said.

     “Am I interrupting something?” Dean had snuck up on the two of you.

     Jack took half a step back from you, “Jus’ havin’ a chat wi’ the lady. You must be the dandy new boyfriend.”

     “Fiance,” you and Dean said at the same time.

     Dean continued, “Who the hell are you?”

     Dean was holding a box of donuts from Donna’s. He must have walked up from her shop. The donuts were fresh from the oven with little tendrils of steam escaping the box.

     “Dean,” you stepped to his side, “This is Jack. Jack, this is my fiance, Dean. Be nice.”

     “Ach, don’t let her bust yer balls too bad, laddie,” Jack teased.

     “Oh, she only busts my balls in the good way,” Dean returned.

     “Okay. Give me the donuts. You two can measure without me. Just… don’t kill each other,” you took the donuts and walked them back to Donna’s.

 

     “Ex-squeeze me?! You did what now?!” Donna leaned forward on the counter to hear you better.

     “I…walked away?” you repeated. You were sitting at the counter directly across from where Donna stood. You were eating donuts from the box Dean had bought from one of your best friends. He’d gotten you four of your favorite and the rest were for him. He would probably eat them all in one day and not gain a pound, the jerk.

     “I don’t care who you are, you got two cavemen beating their chests over you, you stay and watch that,” Donna said.

     You sat back in your seat and eyed Donna Hanscum, former cop, terrible liar.

     “I thought Jack was a filthy criminal,” you kept an eye on her reaction. Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “Oh…my…god… Donna!” you gasped, not holding back your grin. “Jack?! He’s the one who lit you up like a Christmas tree?!”

     “Shh!! Keep your voice down!” Donna pleaded. “First of all, how the H-E-double toothpicks did you put that together? And second… are you mad?”

     “Jack said he was with someone before he went to visit his mom,” you answered.

     “He toldja that, huh?”

     “We’re friends, Donna, we talk,” you responded. “No, I’m not mad. What happened to your thing about criminals?”

     “Still the same, but a girl has needs,” she said demurely.

     You knew, quite well, the appeal of Jack Sullivan.

     “Are you two serious?” you wondered.

     Donna scoffed, “Oh, no way. I kinda can’t stand him, but he’s got that bad boy thing going for him, so…”

     Donna was looking at you like you were a bomb counting down to detonation. 

     “Say something,” she pleaded.

     “I’m just… shocked,” you said, still taken aback. “I did not expect my straight laced friend to go for a booty-call.” You thought a moment. “Did you or he leave before morning?”

     Donna nodded, “Told him I’d turn his ass in, in a heartbeat if I caught him doing anything illegal and he was gone.” She chuckled, “Plus, the smokin’.” She fake gagged, “No can do.”

     “Donna, Donna, Donna.” You’d told your friends before that you were okay with them dating your exes (and you used that term loosely), you just hadn’t thought that Donna would be the one to test the waters. “No broken hearts, please, but you get those needs met.”

     You knew Jack, he wouldn’t be with Donna long. He’d had a wandering eye, even with you. And there was no way would Donna tolerate any of the “activities” Jack and the club took part in. You raised your mug of hot chocolate to her and she clinked her coffee to yours.

     The door jingled behind you and a moment later, Dean swooped in beside you, bringing the chill of outside with him. You and Donna both looked him over finding him no worse for wear.

     “What?” he noticed you both staring.

     “Everything go okay?” You weren’t sure if Dean and Jack would get along. You hoped they would, of course, but… they could both be very opinionated hot heads and Dean was only just finishing healing from the Christmas ordeal.

     “Yeah,” he grabbed a donut from the box, “he seems like an alright guy.”

     Dean chomped on the donut, seemingly downing half of it in one bite. Donna snickered at the powdered sugar on his lip and nose.

     “Is Jack okay?” you asked, wiping his nose.

     “What’d you think we were going to do? Duke it out out there in the parking lot?” he joked.

     You shrugged, “Maybe.”

     “C’mon, I coulda taken him. Guy is at least ten years older than me,” he took another bite.

     “Oh honey,” you patted Deans knee. “Jack could give you a run for your money.”

     “Yeah?” Dean was not concerned.

     “Busted him for fighting once,” Donna said. “He sent a guy to the hospital.”

     “But, like… a long time ago, right?”

     Donna shook her head then looked at you, “When was that?”

     You didn’t have to think too hard, “About five an a half years ago. I met Donna when I picked him up from him spending a night in jail.”

     “Yeah,” Donna agreed. “But don’t let little sis fool ya, she can throw down with the best of ‘em. Used to spar with her, but not anymore.”

     “Shady.” Dean turned to you, “You look so innocent…”

     “Okay, I think we should go now,” you said and got up from your seat.

     Your cell phone chimed and you looked at the display. Jack had text you.

     _ **“Give the laddie m’cell**.”_

_“You two besties now?”_

_**“Yes. Now help out, will ye? FFS.”**_

_“What about Donna?”_

_**“She has m’number.”**_

_“I’m certain of that.”_

     “Who was that?” Dean asked. He had the box of donuts in his hands and was ready to leave.

     “I’m supposed to give you Jack’s cell phone number,” you answered. “So are you planning a sleepover? Do your nails, play with each other’s hair?”

     “Yeah, and no girls allowed,” he teased back.

     “I’m glad you guys got along so well,” you were still shocked. You were also dying to know what happened and kicked yourself for not staying. “What did you boys talk about?”

     Dean pushed open the door, the small bell above the door jingling. The air outside seemed to have gotten colder and the wind had picked up. Dean led you down the alley to his car at a quickened pace and you both got into his car out of the wind. 

     For the time being, you had no space in your garage for Baby. Even if you didn’t have your own special baby in there, you doubted Baby would have even fit in the old garage. Parked just outside the door, you and Dean rushed up the stairs to your apartment.

     “What happens next?” you keyed into your apartment.

     Dean followed you inside, “We turn up the heat and find a good movie to watch.”

     “Or we could lie in bed under the blankets and just… I don’t know, be bumps in bed. I just need a day or two to recover from this… vacation,” you suggested. You wondered why it was that vacations were always so exhausting.

     “Now that sounds like a great idea,” Dean agreed.

     Settling on “Raiders,” you both got into your bed and talked about how you were going to work out the logistics of this change in leadership and ownership of the family business. It would take a lot of work and Dean would need to hire a lawyer, thankfully, he knew a couple.

     “I texted Sam when we were leaving Kansas to call me later. I told him I wanted him to comb through everything, ‘cause I don’t believe for a second that my dad isn’t hiding something,” Dean began laying it out.

     It wasn’t, in your mind, a good thing that Dean couldn’t trust his dad to broker a straight deal. It spoke of John’s character, or lack thereof, and Dean was understandably wary.

     “What did Sam say?” you prompted.

     “He agreed that Dad is a shady piece of shit and would get all of the records requested and start going through them,” he answered.

     “And you told Sam about your plan for him to be a silent partner and Benny would run the brewery?”  _And you and me as King and Queen over it all_ , you left off.

     Dean nodded, “He was a little miffed about not having a bigger share, but it’s money for nothing for him.”

     “Speaking of money,” you hesitated. “I suppose Sam won’t do this out of the goodness of his heart?”

     Dean chuckled, “No. It’s going to cost a pretty penny, too. Sam and I agreed we need to hit Dad hard and fast…and that means staff and money.”

     “I can help with that,” you said, getting out of the warm confines of your bed.

     “You don’t have to…” Dean tried to let you off the hook.

     You pulled out the jewelry box that held your emerald earrings and held it out to him. You knew the earrings would barely buy a day of Sam’s time.

     “Sell these to me,” you sat on the edge of the bed, “for a wildly inflated price.”

     “Wait, what? No? No. Those were a gift for you. You don’t give back gifts,” he said.

     You set the box aside on the nightstand.

     “Dean,” you took his hands, “This whole thing with us started because we both wanted our dreams to come true and now they are. I have pinched pennies for  _years_. Let me help.”

     For a moment, you thought he might break down. His face got a little pink and his eyes welled up a little. He took a few calming breaths and you both wiped your eyes.

     “Okay,” he agreed. “I guess this is our dream now. Out of curiosity, how many pennies?”

     You weren’t sure, exactly, but you have him the ballpark, “Millions.” Dean stared back at you, silent. “Millions of pennies… It costs a lot to start a business… say something, you’re freaking me out.”

     “Yeah, but most people don’t pay in cash,” Dean finally spoke.

     “I’m not most people,” you defended.

     “No, you definitely are not,” he smiled. “You’re awesome, you know that?”

     “Damn right I am. You lucky bastard.”

     He pulled you to him, the movie forgotten.

 

     Over the next several months, you barely got to see Dean and it left you feeling hollow inside. When he wasn’t working at the brewery, he was in Kansas. He’d worked it out with his boss to get his hours in how he wanted. Monday through Wednesday, he worked 12 hours, Thursday was 4 hours then he would head to Kansas. Friday was spent with Sam and at the family business. If you were lucky, Dean would drive back on Friday night, but usually it was Saturday when he would get back, leaving only Sundays for you. 

     The poor guy was so worn out, he would sleep for much of the time you got to have him on Saturdays. By the time May rolled in, you had been spending the majority of your time at his place and decided to just forget trying to live at your apartment. You sold off a lot of your things and moved your precious items into Dean’s place.

     May had also brought your 3rd replacement for your position at Heaven on Wheels. Becky Rosen was holding up better than the other two and didn’t take any of the bullshit that came with being around Chuck on a regular basis. She almost seemed to thrive on the stress. She was a little weird and didn’t know much about cars, but she appeared to be capable of running the office. For Becky, having the apartment above the garage was icing on the cake. Thought, there was one thing that both worried and amused you, Becky had taken a shine to Chuck.

     You’d been sitting in the office at your desk when you caught movement near the floor. Leaning to the side so you could see around your computer, you spotted Chuck. He was almost crawling on the floor. He skittered inside and closed the door, ever so gently, then, as stealthily as he could, closed all of the blinds.

     “What the hell are you doing?” you loudly asked.

     “Shh!!” he waved you down, “She might hear you!”

     Taking a hot second to think, “Who? Becky?” There were only a few women in the shop to choose from.

     When Chuck turned around and flopped down in the old green vinyl couch, you noticed his hair was a mess, pink on his lips, shirt partially untucked. Chuck slouched down like he was hiding from the law. His eyes darted to the windows looking for the petite blonde.

     “Yes, Becky!” he hissed.

     “I thought you were doing inventory,” you kept your expression blank.

     “That evil temptress ambushed me in there!” he looked bereft.

     It was odd to be on the opposite side of this type of situation.

     “She won’t leave me alone, (Y|N), I’m sore in places…”

     “STOP!” you might be sick. “I don’t want to know the details, for God’s sake. I thought you’d love a stage 5 clinger like Becky?”

     “Not when we’re working!”

     “Set your boundaries with her. If she can’t respect that, then you can fire her, but I’m still leaving June 30th,” you advised.

     “No. God. Please! Stay. I’ll give you anything you want…” he was desperate.

     “Not a chance. I’ve already got everything I’ve ever wanted all lined up,” you waved your hand in a straight line.

     “You know, I looked into Winchester Auto,” he had finally caught his breath. “Good place.”

     You waited to see where this was going.

     “Got a call from a guy in Michigan wanting to open a franchise of Heaven on Wheels in Hell, of all places. He said you should look into the brewery a little closer.”

     Your brain was spinning. There was a lot to process from that little bit of information Chuck had given you.

     You held up your hands, “What? What? What? A franchise of Heaven on Wheels?”

     “Yeah, it was cool. The guy seemed like a fan,” Chuck looked super pleased. “Must have been impressed by our work and numbers.”

     The man’s ego knew no limits. Of course, he wouldn’t think it strange to get a call about franchising, all he could see were the dollar signs. He completely disregarded that the caller had even mentioned Winchester Auto and the brewery. Whomever it was knew what to do to ensure that the message got passed along.

     “What was his name? Did you get a call back number? Did you talk to him on the office phone?” you needed more information.

     “Geeze. I wasn’t writing a book, (Y|N),” he grumbled.

     “How the hell are we related? I swear it’s like someone dropped you on the doorstep,” you were going to get a headache just talking to him. “How were you supposed to get a new franchise going without getting more information, Chuck?”

     You started pushing buttons on the digital office phone. It had a record of incoming and outgoing calls and you stopped on one that you didn’t recognize to write it down.

     The look on Chuck’s face to you he hadn’t even thought about it since the call ended. It worried you for your employees, but if Becky stayed on, you knew she would keep a tight rein on things.

     “What else did he say, Chuck,” you asked.

     “He said his name was… Adam.”

     “Adam?”

     “Yes! Will you let me get a word in?” he balked. “And he wanted me to make sure I told you about the brewery.” He looked annoyed like it finally hit him that the call had never been about him or the franchise.

     “I hate my life,” he whined and left the office.

     You sat back in the chair and thought things over for a few minutes before coming to a decision. You pulled out a tablet of paper, a fresh pen and pulled the phone closer. You wrote down the phone number in the tablet and some questions. Taking a breath, you hit redial on the oddball number.

     “Hello?”

     “Is this Adam?”

     “I wasn’t sure you’d get my message…”

 

     Dean had gotten to know all of the back roads to take on the way to and from Kansas where he could drive like a bat out of hell and not get caught. He made the run back to Bemidji in record time. He needed to see (Y|N) and not just because he missed her like crazy when he was away. He needed to talk to her, pick her brain. There was something he and Sam were missing and they couldn’t quite nail it down. (Y|N) had called him as he was leaving and he let it go to voicemail. When he stopped to eat, he listened to the message.

     “Babe, I got something you have to see. It might be what you were looking for. I think your dad… well, I’ll tell you when you get here.”

     It had been driving him crazy for the last three hours. What could she have possibly found out while he was away? Of course, he’d told her about the issues Sam’s team was having. Like he’d hoped, he’d planted a seed in her brain and she’d been working on it while he was away.

     He loved that she had moved into his apartment. It was nice to have someone to come home to, even if half the time it was Harry. It helped Jack was cool. He’d been game to help Dean with his special plan, too, and it was all coming together nicely. Dean had a lot on his plate and he knew it. The grind had been an exhausting one. Sleeping four hours at a time had become his normal and was mostly functional. He’d had a good night’s rest and was anticipating getting home to burn off some energy with his future bride.

     He knew it was going to be a good night before he even opened the door. One of the many perks of (Y|N) living with him was that she brought her stereo and record collection. She was blasting Led Zeppelin, Mothership and the last strains of “Houses of the Holy” faded away before “Kashmir” began.

     He opened the door as quietly as he could, hoping to catch her singing or dancing to the music. She hated him watching her ‘perform’ but he loved it. Dean thought she was already the most awesome chick he’d ever known, her performances were just a bonus. He slipped off his boots letting them clunk on the floor.

     He found her in the kitchen making that healthy crap she liked to force on him. It was actually pretty good, but he had an image to maintain. Plus, he wasn’t going to completely give up his favorite foods. It helped (Y|N) liked them, too.

     He said her name a few times, trying to get her attention. She was chopping onions and still couldn’t hear him. He opened the fridge door, grabbing a beer and letting the door shut on it’s own.

     “Baby!” he called out as he cracked the beer.

     She let out a little yelp, turned on him and if he’d been a little further to the right, she would have nailed him with the knife she’d been using to cut the onions. It whizzed past his head and clanged against the wall behind him.

     “Whoa! It’s me!”

     “Dean?” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Jesus fucking christ, you scared the shit out of me! Don’t sneak up on me like that! Oh my god, are you okay? I could have killed you!”

     “Damn, sweetheart, you about pierced my ear,” he joked moving closer.

     “What are you doing here? You left Lawrence at 8. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour. Oh god, I’m a mess. I was going to make this and get cleaned up before you got home.”

     It didn’t matter what she looked like, he would always think (Y|N) was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He’d seen her covered in grease and dirt working on someone’s old piece of shit car, and he’d seen her in gowns for fancy parties. Always the most beautiful woman in the room.

     “You’re so…” he moved closer, “…incredibly beautiful.”

     “Dean, I do believe you are a romantic,” she said. “Only you would see this mess that way.”

     He pulled her to him. There wasn’t much to what she was wearing. Cotton shorts. Tank top. By the feel of her body against his, not much else.

     “I know we need to talk…” he said.

     “Let me finish up, I’ll be right there,” she looked up at him, her hand snaking under his t-shirt, nails lightly raking his back. Her free hand holding his face before kissing him. Her lips and tongue demanding of his. He debated taking her right there in the kitchen.

     “I’ll be there in three minutes,” she was breathless.

     He wasn’t going to be anywhere he couldn’t see her for the next 36 hours. He stayed in the kitchen with her, close to her side, touching her as often as he could.

     It only took them a few moments and Dean was impatient for her. The last of the items put away, he backed her into the counter corner picking her up. She wrapped her legs around him as he walked her out of the kitchen and over to his bed. He moaned every time she wrapped her legs around him and not because of her weight like she thought. It was because he was in love with his wife and she loved him back just as much.

     Never in his life did he ever think he would have this kind of love for one person and have it continue to grow. He smiled at her as she continued to cling to him as he laid her on the bed.

     “I missed you so much,” she said.

     He still had trouble saying the words… he was getting better though. He loved her more than anything and he did his best to make sure she knew it.

    An hour later, you were both satisfied, for the time being, and were eating dinner, in comfy clothes, in front of the TV. It was cute how Dean protested eating “rabbit food” but ate almost the entire batch on his own. His cheeks would be stuffed from the last bite and would add more to his plate.

     “Thought you didn’t like the ‘healthy crap’?” you observed with a grin.

     “I’m a man,” he grunted. “Man’s gotta eat.”

     “Mmm…” you played along. “Gotta fuel up the sex machine,” you used a deeper voice.

     “I’m glad you understand,” he leaned back, finally acting like he wasn’t starved for three days. “What’d you find?”

     You knew what he was talking about, the message you had left him that morning. You’d worked on it for a few days and had gotten surprising cooperation from the people and businesses you called. To give Dean the proper context, you explained your conversation with Chuck and his phone call from the mysterious investor.

     “So, I called back and it was Adam,” you waited to see what Dean’s reaction would be. “Adam Mulligan… your brot…”

     “What was he doing calling you?” he cut you off. “What did he want?”

     You knew the icy tone you were getting wasn’t for you, but it still set you on edge and you hadn’t even gotten to the juicy bits yet.

     “I’m trying to tell you, mouthy,” you iced him back. “He said he called me because, his words, his ‘asshole brothers’ probably wouldn’t hear him out,” you glared. “Wonder why he thought that? Anyway, he said he went to the Christmas thing this year for a reason.”

     “Oh really? Looking to weasel in with Dad?”

     “Dean, stop it. Like it or not, he’s your brother and he wants to help you.” That time, he stayed quiet, though he sighed in resignation. “He went to snoop around because something was fishy…and to steal shit, but that’s not the point.”

     “The point isn’t his stealing?” he growled.

     “No, damnit. Not  _his_  stealing, your dad’s,” you let that nugget of information settle in. “When Adam was snooping, he found a bank statement and some bills on the computer.”

     “Just what did he think he saw?”

     “He gave me a what he found to see what I could make of it. He just knew something was off with the amounts,” you continued. “It was invoices and bank records. I didn’t understand what I was looking at right away. It looks like John was being invoiced for…whatever…and let’s say it was $500. John then pays $600. Only, there’s no record of the overpayment coming back. Most of the time, it’s not that obvious, but it’s been happening, maybe for years.”

     Dean sat in silence thinking things over. It explained why earnings were lower than he’d expected. Sam knew something was wrong with the books. Neither of them knew what it was.

     “There are people for this, right?” he asked, grabbing his phone.

     You nodded, “Forensic Accountants.”

     He pushed the ‘send’ button on his phone and waited.

     “Sammy. (Y|N) thinks she knows what’s going on… something about overpaying bills…” Den sighed, “Embezzle, that’s the word, alright… Yeah, get a forensic accountant. Make ‘em dig. I have a feeling it goes deep… Yep, you too, goodnight.” Dean disconnected the call.

     He sat on the bed with a stunned look on his face. Of course, neither he, nor his brother, wanted to believe their father was capable of a felony. They had no proof they could present. The evidence they had, had been illegally obtained and inadmissible, should they decide to press charges.

     “Jesus,” Dean rubbed both of his hands over his face and head.

     “What are you going to do?” you asked quietly. Dean and Sam needed to know what Adam found, but it didn’t make anything easier.

     Dean could still remember a time when he had looked up to his father. He had even wanted to be like him when he grew up. That idolatry had fated by the time Dean was in middle school. Sam didn’t have those fond memories and had mentioned how he would like to nail their father to the wall. Only now, it looked like Sam would get his wish.

    “Sam is going to see if he can get a forensic accountant. He’ll get back to us with what he finds,” his tone was solemn.

     You supposed he didn’t want to think his father was capable of embezzlement, but it wasn’t being denied, either. He pushed his bowl toward you, had a drink of his beer and excused himself. You knew he wanted to be alone to process and think about what to do next. His life had been very stressful the last few months and he needed to have his Saturday nights to decompress.

     The sun was still up and the sky was cloudless. Dean finally caved and had massive retractable doors installed for your sake. He was the one who could sleep anywhere, anytime, so when he pulled the shutters closed, it told deeply of his mood.

     “You coming?” his voice carried across the space as you cleared the dishes away.

     “I’m not ready to sleep yet. You get your rest so we can have a good day tomorrow,” you told him. “I’ll be in later.”

     Dean didn’t argue, he just waved a hand and dropped into the bed. It had almost become a Saturday routine that if Dean was home for dinner, he would eat, then go to bed, usually an hour later. You’d even bought wireless headphones so you could watch TV and not feel guilty like you were keeping him awake.

     “Don’t watch Lucifer without me,” he said just as you put on Netflix.

     You rolled your eyes, “Go to sleep!”

     A couple hours later, you’d watched two episodes of a different show, not Lucifer, and were finally feeling tired enough to sleep. When you crawled into bed, Dean was having a fitful sleep. He’d rolled away, his back to you. He was dreaming, still, unable to get into the deep sleep he so desperately needed.

     You moved under the covers to get closer to him. You put your hand on his shoulder, sliding it down his back and under his arm, leaving no space between the two of you. Nuzzling into his shoulders, you could hear his heart beating at a rapid pace, even if you couldn’t feel it pounding away under your hand.

     “It’s okay, Dean,” you patted and rubbed his chest. His body jerked, startling awake. He took your hand in his, dipping his head down to kiss your palm. Rolling slightly, you moved so he could lie on his back. When he settled, he raised one arm and patted his chest with the other. Taking his cue, you laid in the crook of his arm and chest. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you close. You hadn’t realized the tension he’d been holding in his body until he began to relax into the deep sleep he’d been trying to find. When his arm around your shoulders began to go slack, you drifted off with him.

 

     Two weeks later, you went with Dean to Kansas. Sam had found an accounting group to go over the books for the Family Business. They weren’t done going through everything, but they had found enough discrepancies to confront John.

     You’d invited yourself along for the trip back though, it wasn’t as if Dean would tell you ‘no’. There wasn’t a thing in the world that was going to keep you from seeing the look on John’s face when his sons brought him their findings.

     Sam had suggested an informal meeting at the farm. Surprisingly, John had agreed to meet with them. What John hadn’t known was that Sam and Jessica had it all planned out, while you and Dean had known and been in town for a few days, Sam had only asked John the morning of for the meeting. When you and Dean had arrived with Sam and Jess, the look of surprise was clearly displayed on his face, as well as the knowing that he had been set up.

     “What the hell is going on here?” John said as he opened the door wide for you all to pass through.

     You were the last of the four to enter and closed the door behind you. The house appeared quite different from your last visit. The air conditioner had the house feeling like an ice box and had a reeking smell of smoke and… dirty dishes. You suspected a mound of dirty dishes filled the sink and covered the counters… possible overflowing trash.

     John went to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a stiff drink. When he turned around, drink in hand, he said, “Anybody else want one?” He noticed the somber looks on everyone’s faces. “Wait,” he took a drink, “is this an intervention?” He smirked at what he thought was a funny joke.

     “No, Dad,” Sam scoffed.

     “Not for booze, anyway,” you heard Dean say.

     John took his drink to his favorite chair and plopped down, not spilling a drop. Everyone took their respective places in the living-room. Sam and Dean took the couch where they sat across from John in his recliner, and could lay out their papers on the coffee table. You took the last space on the couch next to Dean. Jess was in the armchair closest to John sitting with her purse on her lap, looking like she was ready for a fight.

     You sat back and listened as Sam presented his case to John. While his evidence wasn’t complete, it was compelling. John, of course, had been aware of the warrant for his bank records, and he, for a while, had felt surprisingly confident. Then his boys showed up and despite his best efforts, they’d found his little secret.

     “You already owned the company,” Sam said. “Why did you even do it?”

     “Taxes,” John said simply.

     “You’re not denying it,” Dean said dryly.

     “What do you want from me?” John asked. He couldn’t believe they’d even found it with how quickly they had been moving. He’d underestimated them.

     “This could go the easy way,” Sam began.

     “…or the hard way,” Dean finished.

     John took a drink. This whole situation was like something out of a bad script. “Did you two plan that?” He pointed between Dean and Sam. For John, there was no easy way. It came down to which choice was the least painful.

     “You can either repay what you’ve embezzled and we keep everything low-key,” Sam explained the easy way.

     “And if you choose to be a  _dick_ , let’s face it, you might choose this route,” Dean loved laying out ‘the hard way’, “we’ll press charges and all your dirty laundry gets aired out for everyone to see.”

     John looked at the four faces waiting for a response. He wondered how deep they had dug, if they knew how far back it went. Had they found everything? His eyes fell upon (Y|N), sitting back on the couch, watching him like he was an animal on some kind of display.

     “And what do you get out of this, darlin’?” John asked you. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the one who figured it out.”

     “No,” you shook your head. You didn’t think he would call you out. You hadn’t even reacted to anything that was being said. Quickly, you exchanged a look with Jess. She gave you the tiniest of nods. “All of us knew there was something wrong. You hid things pretty well, but it was Adam who gave me the key. All I did was unlock it.”

     “What’s your number?” John asked you.

     “Excuse me?” you didn’t understand. You thought this hooker bullshit was done.

     John was still staring at you. His creepy gaze traveled from your face, down your body and back up again.

     “I wasn’t talking to you, darlin’,” John still didn’t look away. “Was talkin’ to my boys.”

      _Special kind of pig_ , you thought.

     John knew then that his boys didn’t know how deep it went yet. Sam wouldn’t stop looking until he knew everything. He was great at research and it was part of what made him an amazing lawyer. Dean might not have been book smart like his brother, but he had instincts that were unparalleled. He could sniff out a lie in a heartbeat and would surround himself with experts if he needed help. His oldest was smart in other ways. Together, they were a force of nature.

     “I’m keeping 10% of it to keep me happy. You don’t have to like it, but that’s what’s happening. Ten percent and I’ll cooperate,” John negotiated.

     “All of it or we go public,” Dean’s voice was icy.

     “You two think you’re so damned clever. You’ll never be able to get it all back.”

     “Why’s that?” Sam wanted to know.

     “You think that I can do this all on my own?” John was mad now.

     “What do you mean?” Dean was confused.

     “What’s the matter, Dean? Your brother hasn’t figured it out for you yet?” John was deliberately provoking him.

     Dean was so tense, it was like sitting next to an over-wound watch. You didn’t dare touch him in fear of setting him off.

     “Who was helping you?” Dean’s mind worked wickedly fast.

     John chuckled. He knew he wouldn’t get out clean.

     “Your supposed best friend who got everything you should have had, including the girl,” John sneered.

     “You’re talking about Benny Lafitte?” Sam asked.

     “Hell, Benny came up with some of the ideas!” John was done.

     Your eyes flashed to Jessica and though you couldn’t see but half of her face, you could tell she got what she needed. Her expression changed so subtly, you might not have noticed the tightening of muscles around her mouth. 

     “Who helped you hide the money?” Sam kept pushing.

     “Get out,” John’s voice was miserable.

     “I thought you were cooperating?” Dean questioned.

     “I said, get out,” John repeated.

     “I think we got enough, Dean. Jess?” Sam stood from the couch, collecting his things.

     “Yeah, we’re good,” she had pulled out a digital voice recorder she used for depositions and had checked the playback. “Just a little insurance,” she said to John. It wasn’t admissible in court, but if it accidentally leaked to the press. It was an amazing leverage tool.

     “Sounds like I should talk to my lawyer,” John mused.

     You and Dean had gotten up and were heading toward the door when Dean stopped to say, “You could, but I would get someone other than Art Charles if I were you.” Dean smirked at his father’s expression, “He’s just as guilty as you.”

     “This doesn’t have to be ugly if you don’t make it that way,” Sam reasoned. “You’re the one in the wrong here.”

     “It seems pretty wrong to me that my own family is trying to burry me,” John seethed.

     “You’re the one that dug the grave,” Dean growled back.

     You put your hand on Dean’s arm. No one else could make Dean as angry, or as quickly, as John. Dean needed to get out of there before he did or said something he couldn’t take back. You loved Dean so much and didn’t want to see him go to jail. They’d gotten into an actual punch-throwing fight the last time they were together and it looked like it was going in that direction again.

     “Dean, lets go. We said what needed to be said,” you tried to calm him, though you easily understood how he would be angry.

    “That’s right, son. Let her lead you around by your dick. I assume she has your balls locked up at home,” John taunted.

     Sam stepped in to hold Dean back as he struggled to get at their father. If looks could kill…

     “I dropped you once, you piece of shit,” you warned John. “Don’t think I can’t do it again.”

     Jess and Sam maneuvered you and Dean out of the house and onto the porch. You were fine with everything until John started running his mouth. It was as though every time he got called out, or backed into a corner, he had to verbally attack the person who made him feel uncomfortable. You wanted to kick yourself for getting angry, so you left the porch to walk it off and headed toward the car barn. It became suddenly clear why Dean would go out there to bang out the dents. Having to live with that insufferable man was enough to drive anyone insane.

     You kicked a few rocks along the way and it surprised you, as you walked up the ramp, when the big bay door to the barn began to open. A tall, slender man appeared in the sunlight as he pushed open the heavy door. You were just reaching the door as it came to a rest. The man shielded his eyes from the light to get a better look at you.

     “Well hey there! You must be Dean’s girl,” he greeted you like the sunshine he was shielding from his eyes.

     “And you must be Garth,” Dean’s description of his friend had been spot on.

     “You look like you could use some automotive therapy,” he smiled bringing you inside to the shade with him.

     “Is it that obvious?” you asked.

     “Dean gets the same look on his face when he ‘talks’ with his daddy,” he said.

     Once inside the barn and your eyes adjusted to the much dimmer light, you could see the dust covers had all been taken off all the cars. You swore you had never seen anything so beautiful in all your life.

     “Sure is a sight, ain’t it?” Garth smiled.

     You looked around wide-eyed. Every classic car you had ever dreamed of owning was in the barn. Walking down the line of cars, there was one unusual car that stood out from the others, a ‘56 Chrysler Imperial. You’d never seen one in person, but it sure was pretty to look at now that you had.

     “Whose car is this?” you stopped to ask Garth.

     Garth strolled over to where you both could admire the car.

     “Oh, that’s Dean’s grand-daddy’s car,” his tone was solemn.

     “Grandpa Winchester?” you mused. You looked at the gleaming car. It was in near-perfect condition. “Did he ever drive it, or did he just wipe it down with a chamois?” you joked.

     “He never got much chance to drive it. Henry disappeared when John was a little guy. Disappeared without a trace,” he explained without a hint of humor. “It’s the big family mystery. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this…” he looked around the barn before stepping closer. “Rumor has it, Henry was part of some super secret society, or government agency, and what he was working on was what got him.”

     You took a moment to think on what Garth had said. It wasn’t something that had come up in your full-disclosure part of the mutually beneficial arrangement, but how does one begin to talk about a grandpa that disappeared?

     “What’s the official story?” you asked.

     Garth shrugged, “Missing, presumed dead.”

     “Wow,” you said, more to yourself than Garth, but he nodded anyway. You continued down the line of cars and stopped at Dean’s Packard Caribbean. The pretty lady stood out with her island beauty, turquoise and cream, colors.

     “Can I sit in it?” you asked Garth.

     He nodded, “Dean said, ‘the lady has free reign’ over any of his cars.” He waved his arm wide.

     You looked at the expanse of the barn. There were a lot of cars in there. They couldn’t all belong to Dean.

     “Which one’s are his?” you were curious from what you could pick.

     Garth pointed out a few. One was a Trans-Am painted just like the Bandit’s. Another was a Mustang that you swore you were going to try at some point, but you really just wanted to drive the Caribbean. She had been on your mind since December. Once you were in the gorgeous car, you quickly rolled down the window.

     “She’s a beauty,” you grinned at him.

     “Pretty car for a pretty lady,” Garth returned your smile.

     “Garth, you’re a flirt,” you teased.

     “Just call ‘em like I see ‘em,” he blushed. “Keys are in the visor. If you pull out, I can help with putting the top down. It’s too nice a day not to…”

     How could you argue with that logic? Grinning with anticipation at driving a new car, you flipped the visor down and the keys fell into your lap. Putting the key in the ignition, the Caribbean gave a throaty purr as she came to life.

     “Ride the brake, she likes to go,” Garth warned.

     You remembered that from your brief ride with Dean six months ago. You put the car in gear and gently eased off the brake, pulling the car into the center lane of the barn and parked again. With Garth’s help, you had the car’s top down in a few moments and were back in the driver’s seat.

     “Be safe out there. Don’t pick up any monsters!” Garth said with a wave as you left the barn.

     You waved backward at him as the car breached the barn opening. The car rolled quickly down the ramp and out onto the dirt road. Garth was right, it was a pretty day. The full heat of summer hadn’t fully kicked in yet and there was enough of a breeze to keep the temperature down. When your eyes adjusted to the bright light, you continued down the road and spotted Dean walking toward you.

     Dean stuck out his thumb acting like he wanted to hitch a ride.

     “Hey there handsome,” you stopped next to him and leaned on top of the door. “You want a ride?”

     “Where are you going?” he asked.

     “Into town,” you said coyly. 

     Dean grinned and got in with you. As you let off the brake, you asked him, “Cash, grass, or ass?”

     “What?” he laughed.

     “No one rides for free, handsome. Cash, grass, or ass?” you teased.

     If anyone had said there was someone better for Dean than (Y|N), he would fight ‘em.

     “Sam has all my cash,” he reached for the glovebox to root around inside. Not finding what he was looking for he looked at you and shrugged.

     “Looks like I’m gettin’ luckyyyyy,” you said. 

     “I’m not that kind of guy,” he tried to sound offended, playing along.

     “You are today, sexy,” you teased.

 

     Dean directed you to some of the places he’d liked to visit while he was in town and a few from when he was a kid. If you were going to move to Kansas, there was no way in hell you were going to live at the farm, so you needed to find a place to live. Dean had done some scouting on his visits and had you head west to a town called Lebanon.

     There were a few places that Dean liked. You had all the time in the world to spend with Dean. You were almost finished working for Chuck. Becky had a solid handle on things and in a few weeks, you would be done for good. You had made it your job to find a place to live. You knew you would never find the perfect place, and, honestly, you preferred Dean’s taste in things. He had you drive up to what looked like an empty field. A rutted access road led up to the ‘property’ and you made sure you parked the Caribbean at the gate. If that beast of a car got stuck, you’d need a tow truck. You walked up the road expecting to see a house somewhere, but there was nothing. The road continued on and curved around a swell in the hill.

     “I thought there would be a house up here,” you said. “What are you showing me, the land? Do you want to build out here?”

     He had the biggest grin on his face, “No. It’s right here.” He was pointing at a door so weathered with time, it blended in with the background.

     “What’s right here?”

     “They call it The Bunker,” he was so excited.

     “You didn’t already sign papers on a hole in the ground, did you?” you were only slightly worried. 

     “No, but you gotta see this,” he wrenched the door open. The steel creaked and clunked as it swung wide. “It’s so cool in here!”

     You had to admit, he was right. It was about the coolest building you’d ever been in. Everything was Art Deco and completely original.

     “Some of this stuff still works, too,” he switched on a table that had a big map on it.

     “Whoa,” you breathed. 

     “I know, right? Wait ‘til you see the rest of it,” he looked like a little kid and took you through the deceptively large, underground structure.

     You didn’t know how long it had taken to get through the building, but by the time you were done, you were hungry and ready to go back to the hotel. On the way back, you’d let Dean drive and he picked up some takeout from a local greasy spoon and brought you back to the hotel.

     “You haven’t said much since we left the bunker,” Dean tried to get you to talk in your hotel room. “Something bothering you, sweetheart?”

     You couldn’t deny it, something was bothering you. “It’s all becoming very real. Six months flew by. My run with Chuck is nearly done. Our ducks are almost completely lined up.”

     She was freaking out. “I know it seems like it’s fast, but that’s how things go sometimes. Life moves fast, and if you don’t stop and look around sometimes, you might miss something.”

     You rolled your eyes, but you loved him so much. “Quite right, Ferris. We haven’t been taking time to slow down, though.”

     “I promise,” he grasped your shoulders, “when we get the business switched over to me, we’ll get married and go on a two week honeymoon. Just you and me, no distractions. We’ll move into the Bunker and we can have all the time in the world together. Sleep in the same bed, together, every night.”

     “That sounds great, but it seems like we have to get married to get any time together,” you were still worried. Dean just pulled you into his reassuring arms.

     “Sweetheart, I can’t wait to drive you crazy with how much I’ll be around,” he grinned.

     “You want the Bunker, don’t you?” you asked.

     You felt him shrug, “I want it if you want it.”

     He really hoped she wanted the Bunker. It was cool as all hell and they could make it their own. There was so much space in there and the garage was amazing. (Y|N) could have a state-of-the-art set up in there for her business and… well, it was just too cool to pass up.

     “When is it available?” you thought of the potential nightmare moving could be. Dean was keeping his loft, but there were your things… You didn’t have a lot and that meant shopping… You went to the hotel bathroom to look for your pain relievers.

     “Beginning of August,” you heard him say. Finding your pills, you tapped 3 into your palm and downed them with some tap water from the bathroom. If things kept moving so quickly, August would arrive in the blink of an eye. You could make it. You had to. You felt like you were running on empty, but you had to keep going. It was not a good time to break down. It just seemed like a lot.

     Back in the main room, you went to your bag, got out a notebook and your planner to start making notes and to-do lists. It was the only way that you could manage the anxiety. Having a solid plan and checklists made monumental tasks more manageable.

     “You good?” he asked as his phone started ringing. When you nodded he stood up, “I need to take this. Be right back.” He made sure he had his key and left the hotel room.

     You assumed it was a work call, or the real estate agent, and he didn’t want to stress you more. How he’d gotten through the last six months was beyond your comprehension. You had much less to deal with and you were about to break. Watching Dean was like watching a machine.

 

     The end of June brought the end of your tenure at Heaven on Wheels and you were glad that was the last time you’d ever have to say that stupid name. Chuck looked like he might cry on your last day, not because he was going to miss you, but because Becky wouldn’t let him get away with anything. Chuck had liked her attention, at first, but he looked miserable as you had your last walk out. You couldn’t help but snicker.

     At the beginning of July, you and Dean were invited to Ryan and Christina’s annual Fourth of July Fireworks Bonanza. Steve and Tab did attend, as Ryan thought, but this time, all of the rules were followed and no damage was done to person or property. You and Ryan both considered that a win.

     For what remained of the month of July, you spent time making your lists and packing things you would need to take to Kansas. Oddly, or luckily, both homes, Dean’s loft and the Bunker, were almost fully furnished. It was the deciding of what stayed and what could go that got difficult. Dean, of course, seemed completely unphased by the whole process. You supposed it was his confidence in you to handle it that allowed him to focus on the business more than what was going on in his ‘house’.

     There was just too much free time on your hands. You couldn’t move to Kansas yet, Dean was gone all the time, and that just left you way too much time to worry. It was a good excuse to browse websites for furniture stores that weren’t terribly far from Lebanon. When Dean came home after your second week of no real work to speak of, he had concerns.

     “Babe,” he walked into the living room area. She hadn’t moved since he last saw her, “Have you been sitting here all day?” He looked at the magazines and clippings scattered around her on the couch and coffee table. Her computer was on the coffee table and open to a home decorating and improvement web page.

     Looking around, it finally hit you, you needed to have a job.

     “Dean, I have to get out of here. I’m going crazy. I’m going to turn into my mother if I keep going like this,” you got up to greet him, carefully stepping over your mess. 

     After a quick kiss, he knew the answer to his question. “How ‘bout I call the realtor and see if we can move stuff into the garage at the bunker? We could load up my Baby and your car… If the realtor says no, then I know a guy who has a storage place. If we’re good, you can come down with me on my next run. I can take you over to the dealership and you and Bobby can get started.”

     Of course, he knew a guy. Dean knew everyone, it seemed. He made it all sound so simple. In a couple of phone calls, you cleaned up your mess and stowed it away. By the time you were both finished, you’d gotten yourself cleaned up and Dean had talked to the realtor and worked out the storage problem.

     “Easy peasy,” he said, putting his phone on the now cleared off coffee table.

     You looked at him and hoped you weren’t glaring.

     “What?” he asked.

     “Nothing,” you weren’t sure what it was that was annoying you. Maybe it was the simple fact that things always worked out for him. Not that it was a bad thing. What was irritating was how much you struggled and the solution always seemed so simple for him.

     “I’ll start loading boxes tomorrow,” Dean’s next trip down was on Sunday.

     He turned to you, not believing for a second that her “nothing” was actually nothing.

     “Am I missing something? You still look pissed,” he said.

     “This is just my face,” you quipped.

     Dean’s phone was buzzing on the coffee table. He already ignored one call. Things at the brewery were moving along for him. His boss was getting refreshed on Dean’s job so he could do it until a replacement was found. The boss was a nice guy who let Dean, basically do as he pleased with his remaining time, but had a lot of questions about what he did and frequently called. Since Dean had given his resignation for his Bemidji job, it also meant his transition to the Family Business was moving along.

     “No. That’s your ‘I’m pissed’ face.”

     He ought to know. He’d been seeing that face a lot, lately. He was always on his phone and you’d let him know it bothered you. Of course, you knew he was in high demand at both jobs and was home with you more often because of the changes. You just wished his home time was exclusively your time with him. You hated yourself for being jealous of his busy life.

     “It just seems like you don’t have any time for me. You’re gone all the time and when you are here, your phone is always in your hand,” you indicated the phone he’d picked up to silence. “I get you’re busy, but… With how secretive you are, it makes a girl wonder.”

     He raised his eyebrows at you. He’d heard the jealous tone in your voice, too.

     “Babe, even if I had the energy, and I do not, I have eyes only for you. I’ve already got the perfect woman,” he said, trying to ignore his again ringing phone. “Just let me deal with this and I’m yours the rest of the night, okay?”

     When she nodded, she still looked upset, but he left the couch to take the call out on the deck.

   _“You’re not supposed to call me after seven… It’s twice now and she’s starting to suspect something… If she figures us out… okay, fine, later. Bye.”_


End file.
